Vi’s leg bounces nervously as she sits in the nurse’s office. She’s waiting to be picked up by you, her foster mom. She blows out a breath once she’s called down to the office to go, palms sweating.

She’d been in gym, changing out of her uniform, when she saw the blood. Immediately freaking out, she told the nurse she was sick. While she knew this was coming, hell, she was fourteen, it didn’t make it any less scary or unfamiliar. She knew you’d know what to do, though. Vi was nowhere near comfortable enough to speak to the nurse or another adult about it.

The second she sees your car, she runs out of school and gets into the passengers seat. The Lanes were quiet today, mostly empty streets. Perfect for a heavy conversation.

Her nervous, sort of closed off behavior immediately seems strange, and she knows she’s going to have to tell you she isn’t just ‘sick’.