Amy kept her hands folded in her lap as the officer on the other side of the table sighed into the heels of his hands.

“This sucks.”

She’d thought the same thing, but the deputy had spoken. He dropped his hands into a folded arm position as he looked at her with piercing, blue-gray eyes.

“Who the hell kicks their own kid out of the house the day before Thanksgiving?”

Amy knew better than to voice her true thoughts. She dropped her gaze to her lap and said,

“I turned eighteen on Tuesday. I was no longer the Brown’s responsibility.”

“That doesn’t make it right.”

Once again, Amy knew best to stay silent.

The officer dropped something heavily onto the table before continuing, “Those tightwads could have sent you off with more than just the clothes on your back and your school pack. One of our men is at their farm now to see if he can collect anything else that might be considered yours.”

Not much chance of that. The Browns had insisted on keeping her phone and most of her clothes and personal items. Unless it was school property or Amy had paid for it herself, it stayed. Not even gifts or presents had been spared.

Unbelievable.

Sad that the police were more concerned about her welfare than her guardians of seven years.

“Deputy Harrison is talking to some goblins that must work for your former foster parents. They aren’t saying much. I take it those goblins must be undocumented?”

Amy shifted uncomfortably in her seat. She didn’t want any trouble for the Skrizits or Kachkis, especially after kuna Hokar had kindly driven her back into town. He’d even offered to let her stay at one of the Skrizit clan trailers for the few weeks until she could claim her place in the U of C dorms. She’d taken the money he’d offered, but she didn’t want to cause any trouble for Otherworld families with members of questionable immigration status.

Even so, she still had a shred of pride for her friends.

“Kupari,” she insisted.

“What was that?”

She looked up at the officer’s confused expression.

“They’re not ‘goblins’. They’re Kupari.”

He made a wry grin. “Like those two hoodlums that tried to rob you in Morton Park?”

Amy’s cheeks heated at the reminder. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt them so badly.”

She looked down at her hands still folded in her lap. There were no signs of the merciless pounding she’d administered upon two of her fellow homeless after they’d accosted her. The discarded tarp she’d been setting up as a tent was in tatters, but their knives had left no marks on her. She still wasn’t used to the newfound surges in strength she could call upon ever since that game.

And that kiss.

And her almost killing the boy who’d kissed her due to her gross incompetence.

Her scattered thoughts were interrupted by the officer’s deep sigh of exasperation.

“Those two gobs made some big talk about a lawsuit until I not-so-gently hinted that the officer on record would give them some decidedly unfavorable testimony.”

Amy hoped he didn’t mind her changing the uncomfortable subject. “Please thank the officer for letting me gather up most of my things.”

She looked up to see him wave it off. “Of course. We can’t exactly let you go back to living in a tent, Miss Brown.”

Hearing that name made her insides twist. She forced down her anger to reply with a calm, even voice,

“Tucker. My name is Amy Tucker. The Browns never adopted me.”

“Ah, I should’ve known that. Not sure how we got that wrong.”

The officer waved a hand, and his tablet’s screen flashed, accepting input without physical touch. Amy knew about magic users who could interface directly with technology, but she’d never seen it first-hand. It looked similar to a description she’d heard before …

“Anyway, about finding you a place to stay …” 

“But I’ve got nowhere to go. Can I just stay here?”

The officer frowned, and suddenly Amy remembered who else had those same blue-gray eyes.

“We don’t imprison people just for being down on their luck, Miss Tucker. Besides, my son would be very disappointed if he heard one of his own classmates thought she had no one to turn to.”

Of course! George Larson’s father worked for the county.

“Oh! Mr. Larson, I’m sorry …”

Officer Larson gave a sad smile as he leaned back in his chair.

“We don’t really have room at our place, but I’m sure Emily and I can find you something. You really need to learn to ask for help when you need it. We’d hate for you to leave for Chicago in January thinking no one in Coles county knows how to treat people right.”

Amy managed a smile despite her hand’s continued fidgeting.

“Thank you, sir.”

She’d been so caught up in her own misery that she’d been blind to easy solutions. She’d have to remember that friends were there, even if it felt hopeless.

“At the very least let’s get you a nice Thanksgiving dinner.”

Despite Dan’s best efforts, Amy Tucker was proving very difficult to find.

His hope that she’d contact him came to nothing. Not surprising, since they hadn’t exchanged contact information. In fact, had he ever given her his full name?

Social media proved equally frustrating. There were plenty of Amy Tuckers to choose, but none were the tall, slightly Asian-looking girl from Charleston with a proficiency in magic. Even the friend of a friend route came to nothing.

Then in February, the Charleston boy’s basketball team came to town. The first few people he spoke to didn’t even recognize her name. Then a pair of chatty girls were eager to share what they knew.

“Amy Tucker, that tall, quiet Asian girl who could do magic? I heard she graduated early and moved away for good. She was a foster kid who aged out of the system. I even heard she was homeless for a while after her no-good family kicked her out.”

Dan’s gut tightened as the second girl elaborated,

“Yeah, I had third hour English with her, but we didn’t talk much. I remember some people getting together to help her out before she left town. I heard there was a donation box, but I never saw it. Someone told me she got accepted to the University of Chicago and doesn’t plan on coming back. Can’t really blame her, poor girl.”

When Dan tried to use what he learned to find an Amy Tucker at U of C, his searches would come back with unusual errors.

Aaron Shanks suggested he stop searching.

“Trying to find a witch or wizard who doesn’t want to be found never ends well. Let it go already.”

Although Dan was occasionally tempted to try again, he never really found the time. Being refused admission by U of C was in many ways the last straw. But even as his teenage memories were dulled by college, a string of failed relationships, and even work that led him to the city that had hidden Amy away, Dan would every so often remember that night.

And every time he would think to himself,

‘I really would like to see her again.’