9. Cori - Age 15
Chapter nine
FOURTEEN YEARS AGO
P rincipal Hardcastle caught me in the hallway before class on a Friday. As one of the school’s top students, I knew him fairly well, having been on the receiving end of multiple honor roll handshakes and Student of the Month certificates. But his determined expression set off my internal alarms.
“Cori, can you please come to my office for a minute? There’s someone who would like to speak with you.”
Oh shit. From his tone, I gathered that the someone was not a person I wanted to meet.
My mind flashed back to last week, when one of the newer teachers—I didn’t even know her name—caught me giving myself a washcloth bath in the sink.
I had tried to avoid running into anyone that morning, arriving over forty-five minutes before the first bell.
But Ms. Overeager-and-Way-Too-Peppy must have used that same logic to assume it would be a safe time for her to enter a student restroom.
She walked in to find me in shorts and a sports bra, running a small towel over my arms because the shower in our trailer had refused to turn on that morning.
Her eyes darted to the change of clothes I’d draped over a stall door.
When she asked what I was doing, I told the truth. Because it didn’t seem like a big deal.
Except she responded with a funny look. I should have known then what would happen.
There were two kinds of teachers who called CPS.
The ones who took their roles as mandated reporters so seriously they wanted to log every little thing, mostly to cover their own butts in case something happened.
And then there were the ones who were so naive they believed in the system, that the state somehow had the magical ability to move children from not-so-ideal situations into homes filled with love and care.
I guessed the teacher who caught me in the bathroom was the second kind. Idealistic idiot.
Johnny and I were teenagers. Why would anyone honestly think a group home would be better for us?
Sure, our mom wasn’t around much, but she was good to us when she was there, plus we had food and stuff.
We also had consistent lives at school and with our friends.
I knew this was the reason Rosa didn’t call CPS for every small thing when it came to teens at the Center.
Little kids might get a good foster, but going into the system was usually a disaster for older ones.
Unless she suspected true neglect or physical abuse, Rosa tried to help in other ways by providing meals, a supportive environment, and fun things to do.
Like our teachers, she was a mandated reporter, and I knew it hurt her when she had to make those calls.
I bet the teacher who found me in the bathroom hadn’t even considered what would happen after she did her “duty.” Luckily, I doubted CPS would be overly concerned with a suspected neglect call. I could handle this. I’d done it before.
ME: Are you at school yet?
JOHNNY: Cruz just parked. Why?
ME: Pretty sure CPS is in the office
JOHNNY: Fuck
ME: You need to go home before Hardcastle calls for you
JOHNNY: Got it
JOHNNY: Cruz said he’ll cut and take me
ME: Good. I’ll keep the worker busy. There’s probably only one of them so I doubt anyone will show up at the house until I’m done
JOHNNY: I know what to do
ME: I heard Mom come home last night so that’s good. Make sure she’s awake. Also, I think she barfed out front on her way in. Maybe throw some dirt on it or whatever.
JOHNNY: I KNOW WHAT TO DO!!!!
ME: Stop shouting, fucker. I’m nervous enough
JOHNNY: Sorry
ME: Get Cruz to stop by the Center on your way. Rosa is packing the weekend bags for the kids. She can give you some food.
JOHNNY: On it. Deck says to remind you he’s there in school. He wants you to check in with him at lunch
ME: Okay
JOHNNY: Good luck on stalling the nosy assholes. Luv u
ME: Love u 2
I mentally cataloged what needed to happen.
Despite Johnny being a royal dummy sometimes, I trusted him to handle this.
He needed to go home and get our mom to wake up and look alive.
She’d come home last night, but I had no idea if she was hungover, coming down, or what.
At least her being there made things easier.
Thank god the park manager fixed the shower yesterday.
Johnny also had to get the house picked up and rearrange things so it looked like he slept in the first bedroom and our mom used the pull-out in the living room.
Rosa would give him extra food, something CPS always checked on during a home visit.
Johnny needed to take care of cleaning the trailer and getting our mom up and ready for questions. My goal was to convince CPS they didn’t even need to bother with a home visit.
The mid-forties woman who met me in the principal’s office, dressed in an ill-fitting suit jacket and sensible sneakers, appeared bored and tired. I could work with that. An overzealous do-gooder might dig too deep.
“I’m Michelle,” the woman said, shaking my hand as Principal Hardcastle stepped out.
“Cori, I won’t drag this out any more than I need to.
Since you’re fifteen, I’ll be honest and say that I’m here from Child Protective Services to make sure you’re okay.
Someone called our office to let us know they suspected you might be having some difficulties at home? ”
I stopped myself from rolling my eyes. Social workers were always deliberately vague. It was one of the voodoo mind tricks they used to get people they interviewed to fill in details. To tell them things they hadn’t meant to. Luckily, I’d played this game before.
Shrugging slightly, I scrunched my face in confusion. “I don’t know why someone would think that. Everything is fine.”
I kept my hands in my lap. Used a respectful tone.
My jeans and sweater were clean. My shoes were newer.
I assumed Principal Hardcastle had already told her both Johnny and I attended school regularly, and that I was an honor student.
I hoped those things painted a solid enough picture of functionality to keep her off our backs.
“Everything in your house is in good working order? No issues there?”
“Nope.” I popped the p and attempted to smile.
Michelle looked down at the manila folder in her hand. “It says here that you’ve spoken with CPS before.”
“That’s true,” I answered slowly, straightening my posture. At least four times that I could remember, although it had been a minute since the last one. The caseworker stared at me as though I might say more, but I stayed quiet.
Principal Hardcastle knocked on the door before popping his head in. “Cori, it looks like your brother didn’t make it to first period?”
“Yeah. He wasn’t feeling well this morning when I saw him at the house. He probably stayed home sick.” My voice contained zero hesitation, although my heart hammered as the lie slid off my tongue. “I’m sure our mom just forgot to call and get it excused.”
“That’s too bad,” Michelle interjected, eyeing me carefully. “I’d like to speak with him too.” She looked at the principal. “He usually comes on time?”
“Yes, like I told you earlier. Johnny’s been here this whole week. Both Raney kids have good attendance records.”
I mentally patted myself on the back for all the times I’d insisted Johnny go to school for this exact reason. Even if he barely passed his classes, it was okay. Actual truancy would have had the state up our asses faster than anything.
“Hmm.” Michelle looked back down at her folder as Principal Hardcastle left again. “Alright, well, like I said, I know you’ve spoken with CPS before, so some of this might feel familiar, okay?”
“Okay.”
“Cori, do you feel safe at home?”
“Yes.”
“Are you left alone often?”
“No.”
“Really?”
“I mean, I’m fifteen, so it’s not like I’m not on my own sometimes. But it’s a pretty small trailer. I’d actually love to have some more alone time.” I hoped my gamble with levity softened her.
She smiled. Whew. “I understand. How about food? Do you have enough to eat?”
“Yes. Definitely.”
“Would you describe your home life as stable?”
“Well, I guess it isn’t perfect, but I think it’s as good as anyone else’s around here.”
Michelle flattened her folder on her lap and fixed her gaze on me. “Out of curiosity, Cori, even though CPS has never found anything significant, why do you think multiple adults have called us to check on you and your brother over the years?”
The unanticipated question took me aback for a moment. “Honestly?”
“Of course.”
“I think some folks just don’t like poor people.”
The last time I spoke with a CPS worker, I was twelve. I went to the Center afterward, upset and frustrated. Ironically, the investigation came during one of my mom’s most lucid and involved times. No neglect had been occurring then. Not even close.
That day, Rosa sat me down and delivered a hard truth. Many adults, even well-meaning ones, confused poverty with neglect.
Michelle leaned back in her chair. She didn’t have an answer. I imagined working for CPS made her see things the same way as Rosa.
“Thank you for telling me that.”
“Are we done?” I asked.
“I know you want us to be.” Her eyes held genuine sympathy. “But I’d really like to talk to your brother.”
“He’ll probably be feeling better tomorrow.”
Based on her answering nod, I couldn’t tell if talking to him at school on Monday would satisfy her, or if there would still be a home visit.
I wanted to cut class and head home to check on things, but I worried it would cause too much suspicion. I doubted that Principal Hardcastle enjoyed having CPS come to the school any more than I did, so it seemed like the best course of action was to continue as if it were a normal day.
Lunch was a bright spot. I usually ate with my friend group, other honor students I only hung around with at school, or sometimes with kids from the Center.
But Deck insisted I eat with him and Eliazar that day.
He kept making dumb jokes and buying me cookies, trying to get my mind off the CPS visit.
Being around him made me feel better. Deck always did.
I raced home that afternoon to find Johnny and my mom sitting at the little table working on a jigsaw puzzle.
Puzzles were the only normal hobby my mom had.
She had raised my brother and me on them.
Some of my favorite childhood memories were taking thumbs-up photos in front of ones we finished together.
More importantly, Mom looked sober, and the trailer looked spotless. They’d even hosed down the exterior.
I laughed as I walked through the door. “All we need to do is put some cookies in the oven, and it’s basically a sitcom.”
My mom stood and gave me a long-drawn-out hug. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that this morning, baby girl. You know how sorry I am—”
“Mom!” Johnny and I yelled at the same time.
“We agreed no more apologies after last time, remember?” I reminded her gently. “Johnny and I don’t need them, and it only hurts you and us more when you make promises we all know it’s hard for you to keep.”
“Fuck, I’m so—… I mean, I just wish…”
I held her close, wincing at her bony frame. “It’s okay, Mom. We know you’re trying.”
My breath left me with an oomph when Johnny slung his long arms around both our shoulders, smooshing us into a tight huddle. “What Cori said,” he agreed.
“How did it go today?” my mom asked me once we sat back down.
“Good. She asked the usual questions, so I’m guessing she was just going through the motions. Checking a box. But I couldn’t get a read on if she’ll come here, or if she’ll wait and talk to Johnny in school next week.”
“Well, we’re ready if she comes,” Mom said. “And cookies sound good. I think I’ll go get some of that rolled chocolate chip dough from the corner market.”
“Get two rolls,” Johnny said, grinning.
We made cookies and finished the puzzle. Michelle never came by. Not that night, and not over the weekend. Mom stayed home even though she kept fretting about needing to “work,” something Johnny and I didn’t dare ask too many questions about.
On Monday, no one came to talk to Johnny in school, and again, no one came to the house.
No one came the rest of the week, either.
The CPS visit began to feel very much in the past.
My mom was gone the next weekend. Johnny went out with his crew. I went to the Center and stayed on top of my schoolwork. Mostly, I had the trailer to myself.
By the following Friday, I felt comfortable that Michelle and the state of Washington had closed the case. Or forgotten about it. Maybe I had convinced her I wasn’t neglected. Just poor.