“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

I don’t question why he’s in the girls’ bathroom, but instead reply, “Do what?” I try to keep my voice sounding calm, so I don’t give anything away.

“What you were about to do. Trinity, please give me the floss. That’s not the answer.”

“What floss?”

“I know you know what I’m talking about,” Christopher says gently. “Please come out.” I don’t respond. He knocks a few times on the stall door, continuing, “Trinity, I’m going to get caught if you don’t come out soon.”

Blinking away the little tears I have, I slowly open the door and reluctantly hand him the floss. It’s one of those individual kinds that have a sharp point at the end. I make sure to give it to him safely with the sharp point turned to myself.

“How did you know that I was here… and that I had that floss stick?” I question. Why did he care enough to come find me?

Before replying, Christopher takes my arm and pulls up my sleeve. At first I fight him, but stop, though not relaxed, when he says, “I’m not going to hurt you. Let me see.” I allow him to pull up both sleeves, and he appears satisfied. “Good. If you ever feel the urge again, either come find me, or call, or whatever.” He hands me a small piece of paper with numbers on it. I look at him questioningly.

Why does he care so much?

I repeat, “How did you know?”

Firmly, he answers, “Some questions are better off left unasked.” Suddenly, when he holds my hand to pull my sleeve back down, he looks up and into my eyes, and it almost seems as if he knows something... not just as if he’s trying to read me. I see a great amount of sadness in his soft amber eyes.

When I look away, he apologizes.

“It’s fine,” I say quietly, gently taking my hand out of his.

“No matter what hour it is, I promise, it’s okay to call or text when you need someone to talk to.”

I nod, but don’t plan on it. He’s just pretending to care. What makes him think I’ll trust him, just like that? Who does he think he is?

“Mr. García, what are you doing in here?”

“I was just leaving, Mrs. Davison,” Christopher answers. He then turns to me, seriousness in his eyes. He reaches out to touch my arm, but then abruptly pulls it back. “Will you be okay?” I nod again in response. “Alright.” Christopher seems reluctant to leave, but does as he is told by Mrs. Davison.

° * ° * °

“¡Abuela, no aquí por favor! Sabes que te amo y todo, pero sólo... no aquí.”

Unable to help myself, I nosily turn around in time to see an elderly woman kiss Christopher’s forehead, then hug him tightly. I have enough common sense and know enough Spanish to know that the lady is his grandmother.

He suddenly turns toward me and looks right into my eyes, but this time there is no sadness in them. All sadness has been replaced by clear embarrassment.

"Abuela,” he says in a whiny tone, “ahora la gente está mirando…"

“Oh, and by ‘people’,” his grandmother replies in a very thick accent, “do you mean that really attractive young lady over there?” She waves to me and, uncomfortable, I hesitate, but wave back. But then I look around to make sure that she wasn’t talking to anyone else.

“¡Abuela!” Christopher exclaims.

“Ah, lo siento, Chris. Should I go apologize?”

Christopher smiles in embarrassment, and that’s when I finally turn around to give them some privacy.

A moment later, a soft, “Hey,” comes from behind me.

I would give almost anything to be in his position… to have a loving grandmother here to pick me up… to kiss me and be happy to see me. I wouldn’t be embarrassed.

Or would I? I don’t know. I don’t know what it’s like to be in his shoes.

I wave a little, but don’t say anything. I even try to put a smile on my face, but it won’t come.

“So,” he says, “well, uh, my-”

“Oh, Trinity, who’s this?”

Before I turn around, Christopher reaches past me and shakes Mrs. Johnson’s hand.

“Christopher, ma’am,” he answers. “Christopher García.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Christopher,” my foster mother replies, seeming genuinely excited to meet a new person, but more so than most times. “I’ve never seen you here before. Are you new?”

“Yes, ma’am. Well, not really. I’m new once a year.” He smiles a little, but his eyes show an unfamiliar sadness.

What does he mean?

Mrs. Johnson seems perplexed as well. “Oh, well, I’m sorry if I interrupted a conversation! I’ll be waiting in the car, just over there. Whenever you’re ready, Trinity; there’s no rush.”

“Um… okay…” I say in a small, barely audible voice, surprising my own self.

Christopher seems nervous for some unknown reason as he says, “So, uh, Trinity, I’m…”

Then he stops talking.

At first I wonder if nerves are causing him to stop, but then I wonder how he heard what I’m just now hearing before I did.

The theme song of the kids’ show, “Go Diego Go” plays loudly on Gary’s cell phone. When he passes us, there’s a sinister smile in his eyes and a smirk on his lips. His posse follows closely behind.

I notice Christopher’s shoulders rise and his jaw muscles tighten, but then his whole appearance softens dramatically at the same time a car door slams shut. I turn slightly to see what has his undivided attention, and see a little girl who very much reminds me of my halcyon days, when I was carefree… before I met… him. The one who stole my childhood.

Even by just taking a glance at her, I can tell that she is a joyful little girl. There’s a bright smile on her face and a matching one in her light brown eyes as she shouts, “I love that song!”

“Arabella!” Christopher says excitedly. He kneels, his arms stretched open wide as the girl runs toward us.

“I love that song!” she repeats, running right past us. When she reaches Gary, she says, “Play it again! Diego, Diego, Diego, go, Diego, go!”

“Use your manners, sweetheart,” Gary replies, smiling down at her. His head still down, he looks up at Christopher and me for a moment and the sinister gaze reappears.

“Please?” Arabella says, her hands clasped together.

“No,” Gary answers firmly, scowling. “Beat it, kid!”

Christopher hurries over to them and scoops Arabella up into his arms, then glares at Gary, who returns the look. “Don’t talk to my little sister that way!”

Gary emits a quiet laugh. “Oh, so this thing is yours?”

“No, I belong to Jesus,” Arabella says, quickly shaking her head. “Chris is my brother – not Jesus.”

Gary raises a brow and tilts his head. “Well I don’t remember having a son, and I don’t think an all-powerful god ever forgets.”

“You’re not God!”

Gary, ignoring Arabella, says to me, “So you’re both church girls, huh? Don’t worry, babe. I can fix you. They won’t allow you back in a church once you get a taste of this.” After gesturing to himself, he reaches out and gently caresses my cheek before what he’s doing registers in my head. I immediately back away, rubbing my cheek as if wiping away his touch.

“You impertinent fool!” Christopher says, getting in front of me. The last thing I see on Gary’s face is his crooked smile. “This is a lady! Show some respect!”

“Chris, what does im… punt… nent… mean?” Arabella asks, pulling back to stare at her brother’s face.

“It means that your brother had better watch his mouth before angering me further,” Gary answers. “He’s at my fragile mercy.”

Could he be any more conceited?

“I’m… going to go,” I say quietly, beginning my fast-paced walk toward Mrs. Johnson’s small black Benz. Before I can get far, a hand finds mine. I turn around and look down at Arabella quizzically.

“Jesus loves you,” she says. There isn’t a trace of a smile on her face, nor one in her eyes. Only seriousness can be seen. Then, completely surprising me, she wraps her arms around my waist and hugs me gently.

“Aw…” I feel slightly uncomfortable, but hug her too and rub her back. I hardly know what to say in reply. “He loves you, too.”

“I know that, but you need to know.”

I don’t say anything after that. I don’t know what to say.

Arabella runs back to her brother and I walk the rest of the way to Mrs. Johnson’s car, get in the back seat, buckle my seatbelt and then adjust it until I feel safe. I don’t like riding in the front… It just seems way too dangerous.

“Strange, but charming.”

I look at Mrs. Johnson in the rearview mirror, wondering what she’s talking about. I see her take a glance in Christopher’s direction and know instantly that she’s talking about him.

The rest of the ride back to the house is silent. I can’t get Arabella’s last words to me out of my head: “I know that, but you need to know.”

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A/N: The trailer is up on YouTube and the link can be found in the description and in my message board! :)

Thanks for reading!<3

~Naya S.