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Brayden hadn ’ t responded to anyone else.
    Like
a lot of kids in the system, Bray ’ s mom was a junkie. He was born with drugs in his system
and CPS got him straight from the hospital. His mom did what she had to do to
get him back, but within weeks, the social worker following up on the case
found him in their apartment, severely dehydrated and sitting in a shitty
diaper. His mom was found on her bedroom floor with a needle in her arm. It was
too late to save her.
    Brayden
bounced from home to home after that. His explosive anger, propensity for
stealing, and pyromania made him a liability. He ’ s come a long way, though. He no
longer tries to set things on fire when he ’ s upset, his fingers are slightly less sticky, and he ’ s a solid B student. He ’ s even considering community college in the fall. The state
has offered him a full scholarship if he can keep his GPA above 2.5. I still
worry that once he ’ s away from here, he ’ ll fall in with the wrong crowd. It ’ s so easy to do when you feel alone.
    “ Bus is here, ” I announce as the boys scramble to get their coats and
shoes on. They pile out the door clumsily. “ Eric,
if I get another call from the principal today, you ’ re on restriction the rest of the week. ” I don ’ t need to see his face to know he ’ s rolling his eyes at me. I hope he
listens, though. Fourteen-year-old Eric is a freshman, and he ’ s already been suspended twice this
year. I ’ m
a bastard when it comes to restriction. The kids can literally do nothing but
sit in their rooms or in the study room and either do homework or listen to
music. And I get to pick the music.
    I
watch to make sure that the four boys taking the bus actually get in.
    “ See ya, D, ” Brayden says, dangling the House car keys from his finger
and brushing by me. I close the door behind him. Not many kids in the system
get driver ’ s licenses, but it ’ s something my dad thinks is an important aspect of
becoming an adult. It ’ s a privilege for those who have
worked hard and shown responsibility.
    “ So what ’ s up with you and the social worker? ” Tracey asks, startling me.
    “ What? ” I feign ignorance. “ Nothing. ”
    “ Uh-huh. You might want to wipe the
saliva off your chin, then, ” she laughs. I ignore her and disappear
into my office.
    Sitting down at my desk, I try to work. It’s not
easy. My mind keeps drifting. Before I know it, my brother is sitting in front
of me, leaning on his elbows with his hands clasped under his chin. He’s
looking at me expectantly.
    “ What? ” I snap.
    “ I ’ ve been sitting here for ten minutes, Dean. ”
    Ten
minutes? How did I not notice him for ten minutes?
    “ Whatever. Are you ready? ”
    “ No ‘ how
you feelin ’ , bro? ’ No, ‘ glad you ’ re
back after your kids nearly gave you the plague? ’ ”
    “ Are you better? ”
    “ Yes, thanks for asking. ”
    “ Yeah, it would suck balls if the flu
went around this house, so …” I shrug.
    “ Fucker, ” Aiden laughs. “ So
does your daydreaming have anything to do with a certain caseworker cutie who
stopped by here last night? ”
    “ Shit, do you and your wife gossip like
little girls all the time or only when it involves me? ” I gripe. “ And I wasn ’ t fucking daydreaming. ”
    My
brother leans back. “ Of course not. ” He sighs. “ We weren ’ t talking about you, though. Em seemed
so taken with her, I thought maybe we could ask her to join us for a little … ” he sucks his teeth and winks at me, “ fun. ”
    “ Shut the fuck up and be professional
for once. ”
    Aiden
doesn ’ t
even try to hide his amusement. “ You know I ’ m just fucking with you, D. My wife
would have my sack for breakfast. ”
    I know he’s kidding, but I still don’t like it.
    “You like her,” he gapes. “She’s cute. Why don’t
you ask her out?”
    “ Aiden. ” The warning in my voice is similar to the tone I used with
Jax this morning, but there ’