The CPS office smelled weird.

Not bad—not like cigarettes or spilled beer, like home—but too clean. Like paper and soap and something fake underneath it all.

Aria hated it.

She sat in a stiff plastic chair, hugging her stuffed bunny so tight it hurt her arms.

Mason sat next to her, staring at the floor. Not moving. Not talking.

She didn’t like that, either.

The lady across from them was smiling too much. Like she was trying too hard.

“I know this must be scary,” she said gently. “But you’re both safe now.”

Mason let out a short, sharp laugh. It didn’t sound happy.

The lady’s smile didn’t falter.

“We’re working on finding somewhere for you to stay,” she continued, flipping through her papers. “Until then, you can just rest here, okay?”

Aria fidgeted. The fabric of her too-thin hoodie was itchy.

She looked up at Mason. His jaw was tight, his hands clenched into white-knuckled fists in his lap.

Aria tugged on his sleeve.

“…Mase?”

He blinked like he’d forgotten she was there. His head turned, but his eyes didn’t meet hers.

She didn’t like that, either.

She looked back at the lady. “Can we go home now?”

The lady’s smile faltered. Just for a second.

Then she shook her head. “Not yet, sweetie.”

Aria squirmed in her seat.

She didn’t understand all of this.

She just knew she wasn’t where she was supposed to be.

“Mason?” she tried again, quieter.

This time, he didn’t answer.

—

Hours passed.

People came in and out, whispering things they thought the kids couldn’t hear.

“Still no placement.”
“Parents aren’t answering.”
“Dad’s in jail, mom’s a wreck—”
“—older one’s got a record—”
“—drug use in the home—”
“—may have to separate them—”

Aria’s stomach hurt.

She grabbed Mason’s sleeve again.

“They can’t do that, right?” she whispered.

Mason didn’t look at her. Didn’t blink.