What now?

Rose.

Rose was the only person I trusted, the only one who was kind to me that day. I went for a long walk and wound up at a quiet park where bushes exploded with red and yellow flowers reaching for the sky. Too late, I noticed three guys closing in behind. The last thing I remember was the smell of their sweat and the red mud caked on their boots.

When I woke up, Rose was there. Maybe there were other cops, too, but I don’t remember. Even though I’d learned to keep my distance from police, I could tell right away that Rose was different. She held my hand and spoke to me quietly, assured me I was safe. We spent the whole afternoon at the hospital together. For the next few weeks, she checked on me almost every day.

“I want to be sure you’re okay, Emily. If you ever don’t feel safe, call me right away.” She gave me a card with her name and her telephone number in black letters. It had a gold star, with “Protect and Serve” in blue. The card felt magical, my passport to safety. I could call Rose anytime. I kept it tucked in my bra on the left side, closest to my heart.

I took out my cell and carefully tapped her number.

“McGarrett,” a voice grunted. “Who’s this?”

“Emily. Is Rose there?”

“This is Rose.” Her voice softened. “Good to hear from you, Emily. What’s up?”

“I’m in trouble. Somebody at the shelter stole my stuff.”

Rose interrupted, “Tell me where you are.”

“On tenth street near the Y.”

“I’ll be there.”

Bernice was gone from the homeless shelter the same night, and the center supervisor began checking on me every evening.

****

Rose was the one who made the appointment for me to see Dr. Greenbaum. Over the years, I’d gone to a lot of head doctors and didn’t like any of them. I explained that to Rose, but she insisted that she trusted this doc and promised she’d be with me.

While we were filling out the paperwork, Rose got a call from work. I was relieved that our deal was off. I got up to leave with her.

 “I’m sorry I can’t be with you, Emily,” she said firmly, “but you need to stay. I know you’ll be safe with this doctor. He’ll help you.”

I stayed, but I couldn’t help feeling let down. Again. I should have expected it because Rose had other things she had to do. I told myself “Be brave, Emily.”

Dr. Greenbaum’s office smelled of mint. The walls were lined with more books than I had ever seen. The doctor had gentle features – soft eyes, bushy eyebrows, and a wide mouth with a droopy mustache. His expression said, “You can tell me anything.” I’d heard that before.

He asked about my average day. That was an easy start, so I talked about the shelter and the game room where I spent my time. He looked into my eyes, and I began to feel calmer. I kept talking.

I told him about my foster care, seven families in eleven years. There was a lot of bad stuff, stuff I’d shoved down deep.

“How did you deal with all of it?”

“Just kept to myself. Fosters who talk too much get into trouble. Staying away from people means staying safe. But it’s lonely.”

 “Can you think of a time when you felt happy in one of your foster families?”

“Yeah. Once I had a family that took us fosters on trips to parks. We even had picnics, everybody around the table, playing games, telling stories. That was really good.”

“It’s a wonderful memory.” Dr. Greenbaum looked up at the ceiling. “We need to start slowly, but we want to get back to that feeling of community. Have you felt it since then?”

“No. I always feel lonely.”

“Have you ever thought it might be nice to have a companion? Someone who’s there for you?”

I told him about Bernice at the shelter. I trusted her, and she stole my stuff, even my St. Christopher medal, the most special thing I owned. “I’m not ready for a friend.”

“How about one who isn’t scary? Maybe one who isn’t even human?”

I thought about that. People are scary, but I’m not afraid of animals. I nodded.

“Have you ever had a pet?”

I thought about Stinky, from my fourth foster family. That made me smile.

“When I was ten, we had a pet ferret. He was smart, fast, and really funny. He loved to play games. When one of the kids got sick, Stinky spent hours in his bed cuddling with him.”

“Sounds like an ideal friend.” He paused. “That might be a goal to work towards. Getting your own place and having a pet again.”

“I’d like that.”

I suddenly pictured a ferret of my own. A gentle companion with soft, silky fur, always there, always warm and reassuring. I settled my hands in the pocket of my hoodie. My ferret would be small enough to curl up in my pocket. She would sit quietly with me, sharing my world. Helping me, loving me.

I fingered the new St. Christopher medal that Rose had given me. Next to it, I felt the silky fur of my new friend, Joy. My very own ferret.

I turned to Dr. Greenbaum. “I’m glad I stayed. Can I see you again?”

He smiled. “I hope you will, Emily.”

****

Joy stayed in my pocket, and I felt at peace. She slept across my neck at night for protection and woke me at six every morning with a song. She made me feel safe when no one else could. Because Joy woke me early, I had the shower to myself, and I could wash my clothes before other people got up. No one bothered us. Sometimes Joy swiped an extra muffin from the food line. That made me laugh.

After breakfast, we would leave the shelter, heading for the nearest park. Joy saw things I missed.

“Emily, did you notice the flowers at the edge of the pond?”

We stopped to admire the yellow flowers blooming by the cool water.

I stroked her in my pocket while she took in the richness of the park. We enjoyed the good things, like the clean-dirty smell of grass, the quacking of ducks, the columns of ants marching silently through flower beds. Joy was also alert for danger, like nasty kids who yelled or threw rocks.

“Watch out, Emily,” she warned yesterday. “See those boys kicking a ball over by the pond? They might be trouble. Stay away and you’ll be safe.”

We took the longer path, avoiding the pond.

I could walk and talk with Joy for hours.

“Do you remember when I told you about my fifth foster family?” I asked her. “The one who made me sleep in a closet when I was bad? I still have nightmares.”

“Emily, you’re safe now. Don’t think about that old stuff. I’m here for you now.”

After the park, we walked downtown to the game room. I could relax, since Joy was my lookout for anyone we should avoid.

The game room was where we spent the whole day, every day, until the shelter opened again at dinner time. The guys who ran the place didn’t bother me. I sat quietly in a corner and watched people playing games. Sometimes they had seemed happy and excited, other times they got angry and mean. I kept far away from the nasty ones.

I stroked Joy, who lay curled in my pocket.

One day Joy challenged me. “Wouldn’t it be nice to go somewhere new? Maybe to the bus station?”

I shook my head. “Too busy. Too scary.”

“I’ll watch out, make sure we steer clear of trouble. If I’m with you, you’ll be safe.”

“Maybe later,” I promised.

I never spoke to anyone in the game room. Customers disappeared into the haze of lights and noise from pinball machines and video games. They usually ignored me. Older kids could be ugly, though. Once a gang of them surrounded me, pointed, and called me names. Joy tensed her body.

“Stay still. Keep your eyes on your pocket, Emily. On me. If you don’t react, they’ll leave us alone.”

I kept my eyes down until they swaggered off.

One day, I saw a small girl, six or seven years old, wander through the room, trailing a scruffy stuffed bear. A flashy new game caught her attention, and she abandoned the bear on the floor. When the newness wore off, she realized it was missing. Her eyes darted around in panic.

Maybe it was because we were the only two people in the room who weren’t staring at screens, but she directed her eyes to mine. Pleading for help. I pointed to the spot where her bear was lying. She whooped and ran over, scooping it up in a tight embrace. Then she skipped towards me.

“Thank you.”

I expected her to run off, but she didn’t.

“I’m Anne.” She pointed to the stuffie. “This is Muffin.”

I looked at Anne’s face. I thought I smelled sweet clover, reminding me of picnics. I thought of my favorite foster family, the one who made picnics and played games.

To be sure, I checked in with Joy.

“She’s not a threat. You can talk to her.”

“My name is Emily,” I told her. No one else in the game room knew that.

“Hi, Emily. Gotta’ go now. Aunt Shirley is waving.” I looked up to see a leathery woman with fiery orange hair and sleeve tattoos. One of those I stayed far away from.

But I hoped Anne would be back.

****

A few days later, Anne returned in Aunt Shirley’s grip. Quickly, the older woman became absorbed in a pinball machine. Anne’s eyes searched the room.

“She’s back, Joy!”

“Okay, you can talk with her, Emily. But go slowly.”

“I thought you wanted us to have more experiences.”

“Yes but be careful.”

My heart beat faster as Anne ran toward me.

“You’re still here, Emily! I’m glad. Aunt Shirley is doing games.” She surprised me with a quick hug. I hadn’t been hugged in a long time. I let her chatter form a warm cloud around us.

Anne had brought Muffin with her. She showed me how she danced with her bear.

“I hold her by the ears, and we twirl.”

When Anne extended her arms to dance, I saw large bruises mottled in purple and yellow. I asked about them, but Anne just shook her head. I recognized them, though.

Anne visited, and we sang songs until Aunt Shirley appeared in an angry huff. She smelled like stale beer and was primed for a fight. Maybe her games hadn’t gone well.

Joy tensed. “Stay away from that woman, Emily. She’s dangerous.”

“Time to go, brat,” Shirley growled.

Shirley tried to pull her away, but Anne stood her ground. She stamped and shouted,

“I want to stay here with my friend!”

Shirley scowled at Anne, who glowered back. They squared off until Anne lost her nerve and raced across the room.

“When I catch you, you’re gonna get it.”

I cheered silently as Anne outran her clumsy aunt in loop after loop around the room. Finally, Shirley cornered Anne. I wanted to release Joy and let her dart under Shirley’s legs. Maybe trip her up and bite her.

Joy resisted, telling me firmly, “Don’t get involved. It’s not our business.”

I sighed. Joy was right. Shirley dragged Anne away as she sobbed, her fist wrapped around the girl’s hair. I shared her pain. People in the game room looked up, but nobody said a word.

Joy interrupted my thought loop. “This isn’t our problem.”

The rest of the afternoon was a blur. I felt too hot and too cold, and my fingers trembled.

That night, I turned over and over in my cot. Anne’s bruises and her sensitive eyes swirled together in my brain. I knew about hurting when nobody cared. Now I was safe, and Joy was a big part of that. I reached into my pocket and stroked her gratefully.

“Joy, we have to help Anne. She needs to know she matters to us.”

Joy’s body went stiff and her fur bristled. She warned again, “It’s not our business. Let me keep you safe.”

“But you said we need to do more things. This is happening right in front of us.”

“Emily, this could be dangerous. It could get out of control.”

It took me a long time to fall asleep. Everything felt wrong. I heard a child’s voice singing softly, a child with Anne’s face. She stared at me with eyes full of longing.

****

The next day, Joy and I sat in our usual spot in the game room. I couldn’t think of anything except Anne. Would she come? I wanted to know she was okay. I wanted her to know that I cared.

Finally, I saw Shirley enter and join some guys at the pool table. No Anne. I got more worried. I stroked Joy to calm myself.

“Leave it alone,” Joy warned again impatiently.

A while later, Anne appeared, her hand held tightly in the fist of a beefy man wearing a leather vest. When she saw me, she wriggled away and ran toward me.

“Hey, brat. Don’t go far.”

But Anne had already reached me. She looked different today: a black eye, a cut on the side of her mouth, more bruises on her arms.

“I’m glad you’re here, Anne,” I said trying to hide the alarm in my voice. “How are you and Muffin today?”

In response, Anne began to cry quietly. I was immediately thrown back into my worst foster home, the one where the dad used to beat us with his belt just because he could. He picked on the smallest kid, Gary, for the worst beatings. I never knew how he did it, but he somehow got word to his case manager. When the police came, I was relieved and scared. None of us kids admitted the beatings. We were afraid something worse could happen. Only Gary spoke out. After that, CPS took the kids away.

I don’t know what happened to Gary, but he saved us.

Joy fumed inside my pocket. I ignored her.

Last night’s voice was soft but insistent. Encouraging me to help Anne, to take a risk, not just sit on the sidelines.

“Anne, I know how to help you. But you must stay here. I’ll be back in a few minutes, as soon as I can.”

I walked out the main door, careful not to attract attention. The midday sunlight was blinding after the game room. I walked around the corner to the closest quiet spot. I hated leaving Anne alone for even a moment.

For the second time, I dialed Rose’s number. I didn’t realize I was holding my breath until she answered and I gulped air.

“Rose, I need your help. Right now.”

“Are you in trouble, Emily?”

“Not me. It’s my friend. She’s only six.” I stopped for a moment. How could I make Rose understand how bad this was?

“Her aunt is beating her. She has bruises all over. She’s really scared, like I was the day you found me in the park.”

“Stay right there. I’m coming,” she promised.

I raced back to the game room and found Anne waiting by the door.

I led her to my usual spot and tried to distract her. I began singing, “You Are My Sunshine” and other songs I remembered. Anne hummed along to the ones she knew.

It seemed forever before a stocky woman and a tall man entered the game room. They wore street clothes, but I recognized Rose and her partner.

I ran to them. I felt like hugging Rose, but neither of us was the hugging type.

“It’s okay, Emily. We’ll get the situation under control. I trust you. If you say a child is in trouble, I know it’s serious.” She looked over at Anne. “Is this the one?”

“Yes, this is Anne.” She was clinging to me. The calm of the song was gone.

“Don’t worry,” I told her. “This is my friend, Rose. She’s here to help.”

Rose inspected her bruised and tear-stained face, noted her arms, and read the fear in her eyes.

“You’re safe now, honey. Where’s your aunt?”

Anne led her to the table where Shirley and her boyfriend were still shooting pool with some buddies. A dozen empty beer bottles were thrown around, and the party was loud and buzzed.

Shirley squinted down at Anne and demanded, “Who you got there, brat? I warned you about talkin’ to strangers.” Her speech was slurred and she teetered on her heels.

Anne began to cry. Before Rose could speak, Shirley slapped Anne’s face hard enough that I heard it across the room. Anne fell to the ground, barely missing the sharp toe of her Aunt’s boot.

The girl curled into a ball, screaming.

Joy yelled at me to stay still, but I couldn’t. I ran to protect Anne.

The noises and lights from the games followed their own beat, but the players turned their attention to the brawl. A woman at the next table yelled, “What the hell?” and marched over to intervene.

Shirley’s boyfriend growled, “Keep out of this, bitch. This is between us and the brat.”

Suddenly Rose’s voice thundered over the din. “I’m officer Rose McGarrett. You have the right to remain silent...”

Shirley snarled, “What kind of shit is this?” Adjusting her feet on the floor for maximal leverage, she pulled back her right arm.

Before she could swing, Rose knocked her off her feet with a move so fast I couldn’t follow it. The boyfriend landed a punch on Rose while she was dealing with Shirley. In a moment, Rose’s partner had him on the ground, too. Shirley and her boyfriend struggled for a few seconds before realizing it was hopeless. They lay cuffed and cursing until more police appeared.

Anne stayed in my arms. I could feel her heart beating through her T-shirt.

As the cops led her away, Shirley spat, “Wait ‘till I get my hands on you, brat.”

Anne held on to me even tighter.

The room was tense. Most players were talking quietly in small groups. I couldn’t hear what they were saying, and I ignored them. I was holding Anne tight. Joy was still scolding me. “Nothing good will come of this.”

After Shirley and her boyfriend had been wrestled into a squad car, Rose walked back inside to talk to us. Her jaw was beginning to swell from the punch.

“Anne, an officer from CPS is here. She’s going to take you to a safe place.”

I jumped up. “No, Rose. I can take care of her. You can help me. We know how to keep her safe.”

Rose’s voice was soft but firm. “Emily, that’s not possible. But you did a really good thing for her today, you saved her from a bad situation. I’m proud of you.”

I felt like I was the one who’d been punched. I thought I could take care of Anne, thought we could be a family.

“That’s not fair, Rose!”

“That’s the way it has to be.”

I shook my head sadly. “Can I at least visit?”

“Maybe we can arrange something.”

I gave Anne another hug. Then the woman from CPS gently took her hand, and they disappeared through the doorway. Anne peeked over her shoulder. Rose followed them.

 I stopped trying to control my tears.

“This is what happens when you get involved with other people, Emily,” Joy murmured. “I’m the only one you can count on.”

I knew that Joy loved me. But right then, that didn’t seem enough.

****

The woman from the pool table, the one who had confronted Shirley, walked towards me. I shrank back, hoping she’d keep walking, but she stopped in front of me. “You did good today, kid,” she said, extending her hand. “I’m Tess.”

I stared at her outstretched hand and hesitated. But then I reached out, and we shook hands. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d done that.

“I’m Emily.”

“I come here a lot, Emily. Let me buy you a Coke next time we see each other.”

Something inside me burst open. It felt wonderful.

I nodded. “I’d like that, Tess.”

Walking back to the shelter, I noticed people walking dogs, drinking coffee, talking on their phones. They didn’t seem as scary as before.

Something else was different. Joy’s voice, so much a part of my every moment, was silent. I shoved my hand into my pocket to feel her warmth.

Empty.