The Visit
Caseworker days always made the house feel different. Mrs. Harris cleaned more than usual, the boys acted nicer than they were, and Layla kept her hands folded in her lap, pretending she was happy.
That afternoon, Ms. Waller, her caseworker, arrived with a folder tucked under her arm and a smile that didn't quite meet her tired eyes.
"How's my girl doing?" she asked, crouching down.
"Good," Layla said automatically. She'd learned that was the right answer.
"That's what I like to hear," Ms. Waller said, ruffling her hair.
But later, when Mrs. Harris went to fetch tea and Layla was sent to her room, she crept back to the top of the stairs, her bare feet silent on the carpet. Voices drifted up from the kitchen.
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The Words She Wasn't Meant to Hear
"She's adjusting well," Mrs. Harris said. "No trouble at all."
"She's always been the quieter one," Ms. Waller replied. Papers rustled as she flipped through the folder. "Her brother, though… that's another story."
Layla froze.
Her heart thudded so loud she was sure they'd hear it.
"They had to move him to juvenile detention last year," Ms. Waller continued, her voice low. "Aggression issues, multiple placements. It's a shame — he's smart, but he's on a hard path."
Juvenile detention.
The words sank like stones in Layla's stomach.
Jayden.
Her Jayden.
The voices faded as Mrs. Harris returned, but Layla couldn't move. Her brother wasn't safe. He wasn't okay.
He was locked away.
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The Storm Inside
Back in her room, Layla shut the door and pressed her hands over her ears, as if she could block the words out. But they wouldn't leave.
Juvenile detention. Aggression issues. A hard path.
She curled up on her bed, clutching her stuffed bunny so tight it hurt. Hot tears stung her eyes.
They had told her she was safe now. That the system would take care of her.
But if that was true, why wasn't it taking care of Jayden?
For the first time since she'd been placed, she felt a spark of anger flicker beneath the sadness. Quiet wasn't enough. Being good wasn't enough.
If Jayden was in trouble, she had to find a way to reach him.
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The Note
That night, by the glow of the nightlight, she pulled out a piece of paper from her school notebook and began to write.
Dear Jayden,
They said you're in some place. I don't know where it is, but I know you're out there. I know you didn't forget me. I won't forget you either.
She folded the letter carefully and tucked it under her pillow.
She didn't know how to send it, but she knew one thing: she wasn't done trying.