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"JOHN, JUDY, it has come to our attention that you are unemancipated minors living on your own."
The Routledge siblings, sitting in hardback chairs opposite the pointy faced social worker, exchange a mutual look.
"No." They both respond at the same time.
"...No... no." John B exhales a humoured scoff.
"I need honesty to help you," She clicks her tongue while removing her glasses, "that's what we want, right?"
"We're being honest." says Judy, who picks at a loose thread attached to the sleeve of her yellow hoodie.
"Okay, then when is the last time you spoke to your uncle?"
"Uhhh... thirty-four minutes ago." John B spares a mindless glimpse down at his watch.
The social worker twiddles a pink pen between her fingers, "When's the last time you saw him?"
"Two hours and... forty-three minutes ago."
Judy notes the way the woman's eyebrows raise, as if to say she's silently calling bullshit. Which she would be correct in doing so, but they aren't going to admit that.
"We're gonna come out there tomorrow to talk to your uncle. If he's not there, we're gonna move forward with foster care."
Jude's throat swells up a little, something heavy dropping down into the pit of her stomach — probably her heart. The thought of foster care terrifies her. Potentially being separated from her brother mortifies her. At this point they only have each other, they need to stick together.
The woman continues, "I want to assure you, we're gonna find you a safe and loving home."
After a few more minutes of sitting in discomfort, they are dismissed, and the siblings stroll out of the building. Humidity smacks Judy in the face, reminding her of how much she can really hate living in the Outer Banks.
"This isn't good, JB," she huffs, dragging her palms down the length of her clammy face, "what the hell are we going to do?"
"Relax," John coughs, trying his best to calm his sister down by placing his hands on top of her shoulders. "I'll figure something out."
