Chapter 15

As I waited for my turn to present my parent's work in the classroom, I felt like a tiny boat in a stormy sea. The other kids' parents were a U.S. Marines officer, a doctor couple of Asian descent in scrubs, a lawyer, and surprisingly, Detective Rowley was present.

"And to wrap up my presentation," the dad, who was a doctor, said with a sly smile. "Our annual salary is $200,000."

I rolled my eyes. Show off.

A girl raised her hand. He pointed at her. "Is that a lot of money?" She asked.

"It sure is." He said with a nod, causing the other kids to murmur amongst themselves.

Ms. Darren, Kimiko's teacher, looked at her clipboard. "Thank you, Dr. Gao of the Gao Private Practice Center. Next on the list is Ms. Christine Frank."

I stood before Kimiko's class with a warm smile. "Hi kids," I began.

"Hi." They chorused.

I waved at Kimiko, who sat in front.

"I'm excited to share my experiences."

Before I started, I accidentally knocked over my water bottle, spilling it all over my presentation materials.

"Oh no!" I exclaimed, frantically trying to save my notes. I smiled again to compose myself. "Who needs cue cards anyway?"

"Let me guess." Dr. Mrs. Gao's tone was heavy with mockery. "Comedian perhaps?"

The parents and kids broke into a laugh, and my face flushed as I flipped the wet notes. Kimiko face-palmed.

I shot Mrs. Gao a quick glare and cleared my throat. "As a social worker, I've dedicated my life to helping vulnerable children and families."

As I began my presentation, the Gaos' son in the second row raised his hand, his eyes locked on mine. "My mommy says foster kids are always troubled."

My shoulders tensed as I turned to face Mrs. Gao. "I'll bet she did. But I'm telling you, it's not the case. Foster kids are just as kind and loving."

Memories of the boys coming home late and the twins fighting over the TV remote came back to my mind.

Detective Rowley chose that moment to clear his throat. I ignored him.

"I mean, look at Kimiko; she's pretty sweet." I said with a smile.

"Yeah right," A girl in pigtails muttered. "She called me a bitch."

Eyes widened, mouths agape, the kids stared at Kimiko.

Ten minutes later, I stood with Kimiko in the second grade hallway.

"But why am I grounded?" Kimiko grumbled.

"Kimiko, where'd you even learn that word?" I asked, planting my hands on my hips.

She crossed her arms and pouted. "I heard Beth say it to her friend, Cassie."

I shut my eyes and nodded. No kidding.

"I didn't know it was a bad word," Kimiko protested. "I thought it was what friends call each other."

"And what did Emily think when you called her that?" I questioned.

"She got mad and wouldn't talk to me anymore." Kimiko said with realization.

I sighed. "Miko, growing up with older kids, you learn a lot of stuff, but that doesn't make it right to repeat those words, okay?"

Kimiko stared at me for a moment. "Okay."

"Good. I'm sorry career day turned out to be a disaster." I said.

"Are you kidding? That was fun." Kimiko grinned.

A bright side. I thought. "So, I guess you want to be a social worker now."

"Nope," Kimiko answered. "I want to be a police officer."

The disappointment washed over me. "Traitor." I replied under my breath. "I'll see you at home, baby."

She waved me off and skipped back to class, right at the time Detective Rowley stepped outside with a smirk on his face.

"Well, that was an interesting turn of events." He said it casually.

"Don't patronize me, Detective." I replied, folding my arms.

"Seriously, I thought I was going to fall asleep during that attorney's presentation." Rowley said.

"I'm surprised cops and lawyers usually fall in the same line of..." Being jerks. "Profession." I said instead.

"Doesn't mean we have to like each other." He said easily. "You're doing the Lord's work between the mouthy second grader and the rebellious punk."

"Watch it." I warned, but a little flattered. How does he keep doing that?

"I hope Garcia's also paying his debts to the community." Rowley continued.

I peeled my eyes away from Rowley's wedding band to his face. "Hmm, yeah, I'm sure he's having a blast.

* * * * * * * *

NOAH

No kid should be sentenced to the library. I thought, walking through the quiet library to the receptionist desk and slapped my community service form in front of the middle-aged librarian. Her name tag read: Dawn.

Dawn picked up the form and studied it with a nod of satisfaction. "Noah Garcia, we've been expecting you."

"I bet you have," I replied.

"You're fifteen minutes late, but I'm going to let you off by not telling your parole officer, since it's your first day." Dawn handed a name tag to me, which I pocketed. Dawn pouted at me until I pinned it to my shirt.

"Happy?" I asked.

"Yes," Dawn nodded and handed a children's book to me. I didn't bother to read the name. "We've got some kids from St. Peter's who are excited for reading time."

"Dawn, I guarantee you no kid has ever admitted that out loud," I replied as we strolled towards the children's section.

I tried a different approach, took her arm so she looked at me, and I smiled. "Come on, how much is it going to take for you to just sign that form without me doing this?"

Dawn glared at me, yanking her hand away. "It's quite simple, Mr. Garcia, and despite how sorry I feel for our education system. You read, and I'll sign whatever you want."

Okay, I officially hated Dawn.

My thoughts drifted to Helen, maybe after this crap show, I could give her a call tonight.

I sat on a chair before ten to fifteen deaf brats in uniforms, their parents hung by. Somehow the justice system thought this would be charming.

"Hey kids," I slouched back on the chair. "What's up?"

I got looks from the parents and Dawn who glared at me. I rolled my eyes and began to sign at the kids.

My name is Noah Garcia and I'm an escaped prisoner.

I enjoyed watching the parents gasp, Dawn looked confused, and the kids leaned in with interest.

As I read, I noticed a face amongst the parents. He was about late forties and had a bushy beard. Why was he so familiar?

His eyes locked on to mine for a second, but before I could look at his direction again, he had vanished.