Chasing Pavement ~The Write Awards Honorable Mention~

Chapter 2: Social Services

                                                                    Chapter 2: Social Services

       The social services building located in Queens was possibly the busiest place I’ve ever seen in my life, busier even than Times Square and orphanages with a hundred plus kids that I was stuck into. Everywhere you looked there were papers flying, people shouting to one another, phones ringing, coffee spilling, and orphans getting dragged around by cops. I swear, someone could rollerblade right through and no one would even notice. But of course they would notice if I made a run for it. Not that I’ve tried or anything.

                I stretched my back in the arm chair I was sitting in in front of Phil’s desk. Sleeping on a metal bed inside of a police station jail is probably not something your chiropractor would recommend.

                Phil hung up the phone and gave me what I call “The Famous Phil Look”. It’s a mixture of parental disappointment, shame and awe at your capability; although Phil would probably say it was more awe at your stupidity instead. Phil was a black man in his late thirties who reminded me of the typical police force captain in those action movies, like Lethal Weapon. He was married with four children at home, one boy who was fifteen, a girl who was ten and eight year old boy twins. He was a good guy overall and tried to pair me up with foster parents that weren’t too horrendous.

                “Sadie, I’m in a lot of hot water right now, and I need you to give me answers,” Phil started off.

                “Nice to see you too, Phil. Haven’t seen you in a while, look how much you’ve grown! Is that a new tie?” I reply sarcastically.

                “Sadie, this is serious.”

                I rolled my eyes. “Look, I already know what you’re going to ask me. Griffin isn’t doing anything illegal. He isn’t a pimp, he isn’t a drug dealer and he isn’t a child trafficker. Regina probably reported us anonymously to wipe out the only competition,” I explained.

                “Regina….you mean Regina Middleton?” he asked.

                I shrugged. “I don’t know her last name.” He turned around in his swivel chair and dug through his files for a few minutes, then pulled out a manila folder and opened it.

                “Is this her?” I looked at the picture he showed me and nodded.

                “Now tell me about her group,” he ordered.

                I was flabbergasted. “You don’t know anything about it? Really?”

                “We know some things, but she’s not as friendly with the cops as you are,” he explained.

                “That’s because Griff and I have nothing to hide. To be honest, I’m not really friendly with her either. All I know is that they are located somewhere in Midtown West, up north from us ,and it’s a pretty large group, with Jake, Christof, Regina’s little brother, and a couple of other badies,” I informed him. He pulled out the people’s file I mention and confirmed with me they were the right ones. He wrote down notes and such.

                “So, do I get off on good behavior? Can’t you cut me a bargain, look the other way and let me escape?” I asked, even though I already knew his reply.

                “Nope, you aren’t getting off that easy Sadie. In fact, there is a foster family for you waiting in the next room,” he said, pointing to a door that led to a small room where foster parents usually spoke to the foster kid before deciding whether or not they wanted to go through with their decision.