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. Then she and the cop put me in the backseat of her car. Once she’d pulled away from the school, she flipped on the child locks—as if there were any way I was suddenly going to open the door and roll out onto the 105 freeway.
    “Where are you taking me?”
    “To a group home.” Suzie spoke softly again—white women didn’t seem to raise their voices that much, but she was unusually quiet. “Just until we can contact your mother and find out what the situation is.”
    A group home? That sounded like some place the mentally retarded were sent, but I kept my mouth shut. Maybe I was retarded…I’d certainly managed to let things get out of hand pretty damn quickly.
    I tried to fight off the dread by staring out the window, telling myself I should enjoy the rare chance to see the world outside my neighborhood. We sped on past billboards advertising casinos and a racetrack, and some gray industrial buildings heaving out plumes of black smoke. Nothing really glamorous—just more drab freeway, under dreary overcast skies.
    We’d gone from one part of the ghetto to another. There were no 7-11s and no Starbucks when we took the exit…only one lone no-name gas station. And a good half of the billboards were in Spanish—a surefire sign of ghetto, if you asked me.
    Suzie pulled up in front of a very ordinary house. It was bigger than most on the street, but I’d been expecting something more along the lines of Juvee, with a barbed wire fence, maybe—not a regular old home. A large white garage sat in front of the red brick building, which, though old, did not look like it was about to crumble. Maybe the neighborhood wasn’t as ghetto as I’d thought.
    The child lock clicked off, finally releasing me from my prison, but I didn’t make a move until Suzie came around and got the door for me.
    “Alex, I know this is a lot to take in. I promise you nothing final is happening right now.”
    “Better not be.” I followed her toward the house. “How long I gotta be here?”
    “This is just temporary.” Her words might’ve been meant to reassure, but they sounded flat to my ears. “Hopefully, things can be settled soon.”
    Fat chance. I had the sickening sense in that moment that nothing would ever be settled again.
    Still, I tried to push it aside. “Are you gonna talk to them? To Hector and my mom?”
    “Well, perhaps, or perhaps another social worker will.”
    “And will the cops be there?”
    “Most likely.”
    Oh, fuck. Hector would kill me for bringing the cops to his doorstep. Even if these people did decide I could go home, I probably wouldn’t be able to. I might never have a home again.
    A feeling hit me, and for a moment I didn’t recognize it. I rarely felt anything this strong. But as I stood in front of the strange house filled with God-only-knew-what-kind of people, my throat tightened and my chest caved in on my heart and my neck no longer seemed strong enough to keep my ready-to-blow head attached to my body.
    My whole life had changed in an instant. All because of a stupid pair of shoes. All because my damn feet wouldn’t stop growing.
    That feeling—it was complete fucking terror.
    My flip-flops rooted themselves to the driveway, and I didn’t budge another inch.
    “Alex? Let me take you inside and introduce you to Ms. Loretta. She and her sister Ms. Cecily run this foster home together.”
    “No.” I hitched my bag up on my shoulder, fingers locking around the strap, like holding onto that bit of my old reality could keep me grounded. “I don’t want to meet any Ms. Loretta. I want to go home, right now.”
    “I can’t take you home until we—”
    “I said I want to go home right now !”
    Jesus, I sounded like a two-year-old having a temper tantrum. My mind was spinning, and I’d started to sweat. What was I supposed to do in a place like this? Was I a foster kid now?
    “Alex.” Suzie placed an arm on my shoulder.
    “Get the fuck off me, lady!”
    I jerked away from her and