At one point Lissa got up and walked over to him. “You all right, boss?”
“Fine.”
“You sure?”
He looked up at her. “There’s nothing more I can do,” he said. “I can write the briefs, I can make the arguments, but that’s it.”
She nodded. “That’s true.”
“It pisses me off,” he said. “I should be able to do more.”
She flashed him an understanding smile. “That’s bullshit,” she said. “But at least it’s nice bullshit. It’s what makes you who you are.”
“My bullshit makes me who I am?”
“Yeah,” she said. “It does. True of everybody else, too, so don’t feel bad. Your bullshit is better than most.” She leaned in close to him. “But that doesn’t mean it isn’t bullshit all the same,” she said softly.
He took in a deep breath and exhaled; returned her smile weakly. “Is that all you wanted to say to me? You had to walk across the room to tell me that? I’m full of shit?”
“No,” she said. “That’s not all.”
“What else, then?”
“It’s almost one-thirty.”
“So?”
“So, Sally gets out of school at one-thirty. You’re already going to be late.”
He looked at his watch and sighed again. “Damn, I almost forgot.”
“Almost?”
“Fine, I forgot.” He looked at the papers strewn across his desk. “I have no idea when I’m gonna get the rest of this work done.”
She looked at him for a long moment. He could sense a change in her recently. Something he was having trouble putting his finger on. She had always been one of the harder people he’d known. She didn’t let people in easily, and life seemed to roll around her without making a dent. But she seemed softer now, somehow. Perhaps it was just his imagination.
She walked back to her desk and picked up her car keys. “I’ll get her,” she said.
“You don’t have to,” Finn replied. He stood up and pulled his jacket off the back of his chair, feeling in the pockets for his own keys.
“I don’t mind,” Lissa said.
“I appreciate it, but she’s my responsibility.” He was moving toward the door, but she stepped in front of him.
“Finn,” she said, “she’s not your responsibility. You do understand that, right?”
“We can’t just leave her at the school.”
“I don’t mean right now. She’s not your responsibility long-term.”
“I know,” he said.
She looked at him. “Do you?”
“I do. I just want to do what I can to try and keep her father out of jail.”
“A lot of it’s out of your control, though. Even if you get Devon out on bail, you know he’s gonna go back in after the trial. You’re a good lawyer, but you can’t change the fact that you have a guilty client. Not just guilty; dead to rights.”
“I know,” Finn said. “But I’ve got to try. Maybe with a little time on the outside, Devon can figure out someplace for her to be. Someplace better than where she would otherwise end up.”
“There are lots of kids in the system who do just fine,” Lissa said. “Sally’s tough. She may be fine.”
He nodded. “Maybe. But maybe not.” He tried to step past her, but she moved to block him.
“You wanna tell me what this is really about?”
“What do you mean?”
“Don’t bullshit me.”
He put his head down and took a deep breath. “There are moments in life you’d like to have back. Times you wish you could go back and change the things you did-change the things you didn’t do.” He looked up. “The system’s overwhelmed. It’ll put kids anyplace they’re out of the way. The last foster home I was in, I was fifteen. No one in their right mind takes in a fifteen-year-old. But this family ran sort of a group home. They got fifty bucks a week from the state for each kid they took in, so they’d take in anybody. They had about eleven of us when I was there. They had a bunkhouse out in the back where we all slept; one side for the boys and one side for the girls.”
“Sounds cozy.”
“Not the word I would have chosen. There wasn’t a lot of love in the place. And the kids…well, let’s just say the kids had their issues. Three of the older boys, in particular. They were into drugs. Into the gang scene.”
“So were you, right?”
“Fair enough,” Finn said. “But these three were different. Vicious. There was this one little girl, probably around thirteen, who was like a lost soul. See, most of us had been in the system our whole lives. We were used to it. We knew what to expect. But this one girl had grown up with a family. I’m not sure what happened to them; the girl didn’t talk about it. Something bad enough for her to end up in this god-awful place.
“Anyway, she kept to herself mostly. She had a diary and she spent a lot of time writing in that. Like her own form of therapy. One day one of the three boys stole it. He brought it into the boys’ bunkroom and started reading from it. It was sad and pathetic and everyone started laughing. Then this girl walked in and realized what was happening. She went berserk. She attacked the kid who had the book, kicking and screaming at him. He and the two others got a hold of her and just started whaling on her. Beat the hell out of her. She kept fighting, though, as long as she could. Finally, when the fight was gone from her, the three of them picked her up and carried her into the girls’ bunkroom. They kicked everyone out; threatened to kill anyone who ran to the main house-not that I think anyone there would have cared. They locked the door. I can still hear the girl crying.”
Lissa pursed her lips. “That’s not your fault,” she said. “You were a kid, and there were three of them. There was nothing you could have done.”
“Maybe not. But I didn’t even bother trying. You know what I did? I pulled out a bag and threw my shit in it and left. Never went back. Figured I was better off on the street. Still, I like to think that if I had it to do over, I’d do it differently.”
“And this is your chance to prove that?”
Finn shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe.”
Lissa shook her head. “It won’t change what happened. It won’t do anything for that little girl in the bunkhouse, and I’m guessing in the end it won’t do anything for your conscience either.”
“Probably not,” Finn admitted. “Worth a shot, though.”
“If you say so.” Lissa walked over to her desk and picked up her keys. “I’m going to pick Sally up.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Sally was waiting outside the school. It was nearing two o’clock and the place was deserted. It wasn’t the sort of place where students hung around after the bell sounded. She wondered whether anyone was actually coming to pick her up. They’d probably forgotten. Who could blame them? She wasn’t their kid.
She moved around to the side of the building, to the alley by the church, and pulled out a cigarette. She could see the street from where she was if someone pulled up. Lighting the cigarette, she let her bag hang to the ground. If no one came within a few minutes, she’d start walking. Charlestown wasn’t close, but she wouldn’t have any problem covering the distance in an hour or so. If that was what it took, it was fine. She could take care of herself.
She was taking her third drag when she heard them. They were coming from behind the school, walking up the same route they’d followed the day before. All she heard was the laughing, but she knew instantly it was them. That was just the way her life went.
They saw her as soon as she turned. The older boy’s eyes narrowed, like those of a hunter picking up the quarry. They stopped for just a moment. He raised his bandaged hand and pointed to her. “It’s that bitch!” he yelled. Then they were running toward her.
She was on the move even before he yelled. Her adrenaline was pumping as she took off toward Dorchester Avenue, footsteps behind her pounding in her ears. She had a head start of twenty-five yards or so, and she was fast, but she knew they would catch up to her eventually. Her mind worked methodically. She first thought of heading back into the school, but the doors were locked and bolted after classes ended. The church was just to her right, but there was no guarantee that there would be anyone inside, and her encounter with the priest the other day had been less than cordial. Served her right, in some ways, she thought. She should learn to control her mouth better.