On Saturday morning, I was up early with the twins.  I fixed them both a bowl of Trix and let them plop down at the coffee table to watch Saturday morning cartoons.  I started making coffee when America appeared unexpectedly.  Usually she slept in late on the weekends.

"Morning," I told her, my voice still groggy.

"Morning," she smiled at me, seeming fully awake.  I think she had even already showered.

"What are you doing up so early?" I asked as I got out the mugs.

"I've been thinking," she told me.

"Uh oh," I joked and she giggled a little.  "About what?"

"My mom," she said.  "I don't want to visit her in prison any more."

I nodded, impressed that she was being so decisive.  "Good for you.  That's your choice."

"And I don't think I want to live with her ever again," she added.  I looked at her and could see she was completely serious and seemed confident.

"Alright," I said simply.  "Do you need help getting started?"

She nodded.  "I guess I need to get a lawyer."

"Yep," I told her.  "I can help you find one.  We can get started on Monday."

She seemed to perk up and went to find some cereal.

"Are you gonna talk to your mom first?" I asked.

"I don't know," she said.  "I'm afraid she'll freak out."

I nodded.  "It might hurt her more to be dealt paperwork with no explanation."

She bit her lip and seemed to ponder that.  I wanted this to go smoothly for her.  I had a feeling her mother might make it difficult if she could.  She didn't take insults well.

"I could talk to her," I offered, though I'd rather never see her again.  America deserved to have a stress-free life.

"No, you don't have to do that," she said, but I could tell she wanted me to.  Her mother intimidated her.  Heck, she intimidated me.  She shouldn't have to face this alone.

I gave her a knowing look.  "No worries.  I'll go visit her and give her a heads up.  That way she can have time to digest it before she sees you again."

America started to argue, but then stopped.  Instead, she offered a small smile and told me thank you.  She joined the twins in the living room to watch cartoons.

____

On Monday, I contacted a few lawyers and finally settled on one that specialized in adolescents emancipating from parents.  I wouldn't even bring up the fee with America.  It wasn't something she should have to deal with.  America and I met with the lawyer the next day and he made sure she understood all the legal ramifications, including that she'd be financially independent.

As we left, she was quiet.

"What's on your mind?" I asked as we got into the empty elevator.

She breathed out.  "I don't know about this.  I'm not ready to support myself financially.  Isn't emancipation more for child stars whose parents are trying to steal their money?"

I chuckled.  "It can be.  But don't worry about money.  Pippa and I are happy to have you."

She looked uncomfortable.  "That doesn't feel right."

"You're a kid," I reminded her.  "You shouldn't have to support yourself yet."

"Well, I should at least get a job."

"School comes first," I reminded her.  "Let's see if you can get your grades up a bit, then you can think about getting a job."

She was still getting used to having a set of parents who were involved in her life.  We talked to her about the importance of school and being involved in activities.  She'd joined the yearbook and chess clubs at school.  We'd brought up college with her, which is something she'd never really thought about.

I clapped her on the back as the doors opened in the lobby.  "Let's go get some coffee."

She followed me out the door and we soon found a Starbucks.  I could tell things were still churning in her mind and she wasn't ready to go home just yet and have the twins all over her.  I got out the paperwork the lawyer had given me and my laptop.  We talked more about what was involved and how long it would take.  How court worked.  When we were done, she started to look a bit more confident again. 

On Wednesday, I decided it was time to take the plunge and go see Sofia/Maria.  When I sat down at the carrel I could tell she was surprised to see me.  Somehow, she still looked immaculate, even in prison.

"Hi, Sofia," I told her into the phone.  "Or is it Maria?"

She sighed and gave me a look.  "What do you want, Lin?"

I decided to stop being snarky.  It wouldn't help America's case.  "I came to talk to you about America.  She's doing really well living with us."

"Oh, are you breaking her of all her bad habits?  Is she a perfect child now?"

I by no means would imply I raised perfect children.  They were all works in progress.

"She's a pretty neat kid," I told her.  "And she's blossoming.  Doing really well in school and getting along with Cam.  They're buddies now."

"Great," she said shortly.

I took a breath.  "She wants to keep living with us," I told her.  "And we're happy to have her."

"What do you mean?"

I sighed.  "When you get out, she wants to stay with us."

"Why the hell would she want to do that?" she asked me.

"She's tired," I tried to explain.  "You have a lot of issues and she's not able to be a regular kid with you.  She likes the stability we give her."

She contorted her face in a disgusted look.  "Well you can't have her.  As soon as she gets out, we're leaving.  Maybe even out of the city."

"She's seeking emancipation," I dropped the bomb.  She was silent.

"Emancipation?"

"Mmhmm," I said, nodding.  "We met with a lawyer on Monday.  If she's emancipated from you, she's free to live with us.  She can stay as long as she wants."

"Like hell she will!" her voice raised.  "Where is she?  Is she here?"

"No, I came alone so I could give you a chance to process this," I explained.  "She's pretty nervous about this."

"She should be, because I'ma kick her scrawny little ass."

"Sofia-"

"Fuck you, Lin!" she stood up, glaring at me with pure hate.  "You stay away from my daughter!"

She slammed the phone and stormed away.  I just shook my head and hung up the phone.  I'd done what I'd come to do.

When I got home, America was watching me nervously.  I kicked off my shoes and grabbed a soda from the fridge, then joined her on the sofa.

"What did she say?" her voice was hushed.

"Well, she was surprised," I said.  "It'll take some time for her to get used to it.  That's why I wanted to go first."

"She was pissed wasn't she?" she grimaced.  I just nodded simply. 

"Give her some time," I told her.  "You're her daughter and this is a scary thing."

America seemed to understand.  I was afraid she'd chicken out having to face her mother, but she was holding strong.  I was proud of her for that.  What happened next would shake us all.  Around 8:00 that night, there was a knock on the door.  I answered and found a woman dressed in a business suit with a badge.

"Mr. Miranda?" she asked.

"Yes.  How can I help you?"

"Are you fostering America Martinez?"

"Yes, ma'am.  Is there a problem?"

"Her mother has requested she be moved to another foster home.  I'm going to need her to come with me."

"Excuse me?" I asked, exasperated.  She handed me a paper.  Sofia/Maria's petition to have her placed elsewhere.  "Are you serious?  Is this even legal?"

"Yes, sir, it is," she told me.  "Please have America gather her things."

I torqued my jaw and opened the door for her to walk inside.  I felt numb.  How could a mother do this to her child?  She was thriving with us and she wanted to move her?  Just for vengeance?

Reluctantly, I walked down the hall and knocked on the girls' bedroom.  They were sitting on the floor giggling as they worked on homework.  I offered a small smile but they immediately stopped laughing, sensing something was wrong.

"Cam, can you go to my room for a minute please?" I asked my daughter.  She didn't argue with me, and I asked America to sit on her bed.  How was I supposed to break this to her?

"Sweetheart, CPS is at the door," I began.  "Apparently your mother petitioned to have you placed in another foster home for the time being."

She gaped and just stared at me.  "What?  She can't do that.  Can she?"

I shook my head and looked down, disgusted.  "Apparently she can.  The CPS worker wants you to go with her now."

"Seriously?" she started to tear up.  "Now?  It's 8:00!"

"I know," I told her.  "But we have to follow the law.  Can you pack an overnight bag and I'll see if I can get this straightened out in the morning?"

"No!" she said firmly.  "I'm not going."

"America..."

"She can't do this to me!" she stood up and paced.  "She's doing this to get back at me, I know it!  She knows I'm happy here and she can't stand that I like it here better.  She's such a bitch!"

"Sweetheart, I know this is hard," I tried to go on.

America wasn't having any of it.  She snatched up her jacket and purse and stormed out of the room.  I started to follow after her, calling her name.  When I reached the kitchen area, she was already to the door, having pushed past the social worker.

"Come back here, America!" I shouted for her, but she was gone.  I looked at the social worker apologetically.  "I'm sorry.  She's really upset.  She's been doing really well here.  Is there a way I can petition this?"

She nodded.  "There's a form you can fill out at the head office tomorrow.  Tonight, though, she needs to come with me."

"Then I guess you'll have to catch her," I said bluntly.

The social worker looked back at the door, then back at me.  "I'll have to report her as a runaway if she doesn't come back within an hour.  I'll come check again at nine."

The social worker left and I closed the door, then leaned back against it.  I couldn't blame America for running.