Files covered her desk. After a little over three months at DFCS, she had over a hundred kids on her caseload that needed her help. Overwhelmed was a gross understatement for what she felt. Even if she worked 24 hours a day, she wouldn't be able to do everything she wanted to do for these kids. It was daunting, but she felt this was the job she was meant to do. She wanted to do whatever she could to help kids. The phone on her desk buzzed.

"Hey, Steve," she answered.

"We sort of have an emergency situation at one of the schools and you're up."

She sighed. There was always an emergency and it was only the first week of school. "Okay, I'll be right there." She jogged to his office to get all the details, which were sorely lacking. She'd given up wearing heels and cute clothes after the first day. She'd had to carry boxes of documents to Court, where she had to address the Judge on cases that she had no idea about. Then she had to lug the box of documents back out to her car, then hurry to five different schools for different meetings for kids under DFCS care who were being served under IDEA, the Individuals with Disabilities Education Act. When she'd finally gotten home, her feet felt completely broken.

At the meetings, she'd felt totally out of the loop. It was like educators had their own language. She kept interrupting to ask questions because she wanted to make sure she was doing what she needed to do for her kids. Since the first meeting, she'd spent every night researching IDEA and services that go under the law. It was so much to learn, she often felt lost. She wished she would've taken some sort of course on it in college.

As she drove to the elementary school in one of the poorer areas of Savannah, her mind wandered to Ashley, hoping as she always did that everything was okay. She pulled out her phone and tapped on the Voxer app that allowed her to talk to Rachel like they had walkie-talkies.

"Any information on Ashley?"

"No, nothing since last week. I'll swing by this week and check in. You good?"

"Sure," Emery answered noncommittally.

"Em..." Rachel's voice was full of concern.

"It is what it is, Rach."

"Ashley did break up with that punk Hudson. I never liked that kid," Rachel said, trying to lighten the mood. "I'll come this weekend and we can talk it out."

"No, don't. I'm all talked out."

"Well, who have you been talking to? Because it hasn't been me."

"I talk to the monsters beneath my bed," she replied snarkily, mocking the song they'd talked about months ago.

"Well, when do you want me to come down?"

"I don't know. I have to go, I got a new kid and it's an emergency. We'll talk later."

"I love you, Em."

"You too," Emery answered, then threw her phone in her bag and took a cleansing breath before she climbed out of her car and began walking into the school. Every time she did this walk for a new kid, a glimmer of anticipation niggled at the back of her brain. Maybe this was one she could help. Maybe this was the one that would let her touch their heart and their mind. Maybe this was the one she could help. She just wanted to help in a way she wished someone would've helped her.

Emery walked directly into the front office and before she could tell the receptionist who she was, a female cop waved her over to a small conference room.

"In here," the cop barked.

Emery looked in the small window and saw a young boy who was maybe nine with shaggy brown hair throwing everything he could get his hands on. He was wearing a superhero t-shirt that was two sizes too big and jeans about the same. "What's going on?"

"Well, the teacher noticed significant bruising on both of his arms and brought him up here to see the Assistant Principal. I was called in to document the bruising and DFCS was notified per protocol."

"Why is he tearing everything up, though?" Emery asked.

"Well, I think he's deaf," she replied. "I don't think he understands what's going on."

"Oh, he's deaf?" Emery commented. "I know sign language."

"Great. When we were talking to DFCS over the phone the kid just went nuts and started tearing the Assistant Principal's office apart. They got their behavioral specialist here in a few minutes and put him in this conference room. She's trying to de-escalate him now."

"I don't think it's working," Emery deadpanned.

"I'm pretty sure it's not."

Emery opened the door and walked into the conference room, without a care for the fact this kid was throwing staplers and anything he could find. She signed, "Hi, I'm Emma."

The boy stopped mid-throw and stared at her.

"Are you okay?" she asked with her hands.

He stood stock still and turned his head and gazed out the window.

"I'm here to help you," she signed and spoke because he wasn't looking at her.

He shook his head.

Okay...not deaf.

"Lucas, can you sit down and just talk to me for a few minutes and let everyone else get back to their jobs?" she asked out loud without signing.

He huffed, but moved to the chair, not saying a word.

The woman that had been in the room nodded at her. "Lucas, I'll just be outside. Would you like something to drink?"

He nodded once.

Emery smiled at him and sat down next to him. "What would you like to drink?"

She laughed at his signed response. "I can't get you a Sprite. How about water?"

He shook his head.

"Okay, so let's talk," she said, not signing since she knew he could hear and understand her. Maybe he couldn't talk or wasn't ready to talk yet. She could work with that.

He signed and asked her how old she was.

"Twenty-two." The lie rolled off her tongue. "How about you?"

He signed that he was ten.

"I like your shirt," Em said, pointing to his Flash t-shirt.

His smile broadened.

"Do you like superheroes?"

He nodded.

"Me too."

The conversation paused while she thought about what to say next. Then he started signing. He told her that the fact someone would save a perfect stranger for no reason at all made him happy. Then he looked away from her and out the window, as if he'd said too much.

"So who's your favorite?"

He took a minute and then signed. His signs came so quickly she had a hard time keeping up. He said that most superheroes came from horrific-that's the word he used-circumstances. Superman's parents were dead, Batman's parents were dead, Hawkeye was abandoned by his parents, Thor's father banned him from the planet, and Spider-Man was raised by his aunt and uncle. And they all became great. He liked the stories behind the superheroes, all of them, because they came from things that could have broken them, but they made themselves indestructible.

Her heart seized at his answer to her question. "I like Wonder Woman," she replied. There aren't that many female superheroes, though."

He signed enthusiastically. His real favorite was Ironman, because he had everything in the world and decided to help people.

Holy fucking kid putting you in your place.

His hands started flying around.

"Slow down..." She laughed and then began nodding at his signs.

Apparently there are plenty of woman superheroes-Storm, Black Widow, Black Canary...she lost count.

"Okay, well, you'll have to tell me all their stories so I can pick."

He agreed with a smile and a nod.

When she left the school that day after talking to Lucas she felt she'd done something. She'd helped him, maybe made his life better, even it if was only for an hour. He'd acted like he was starved for someone to just communicate with him. Her heart hurt for him.

CHAPTER THIRTY.

Solitary Confinement

Emery was drinking wine and going through Lucas's file when her phone rang. Tearing her eyes off the words lifting off the page and seeping into her heart, she saw her favorite face on her phone's screen.

"Hey, Rach," she answered.

"Emery..." Rachel covered the phone and Emery heard muffled words and pauses.

"Rach? What's going on?"

"Okay, sorry about that. I was trying to make sure I was..." Rachel's voice died on the line.

Emery's anxiety spiked. Ashley.

"Shit," Rachel murmured. "I spilled fucking Coke all over my shirt and had to take it off to wash it in the sink and people keep coming in the bathroom."

"Is Ashley okay?"

"Yes, she's fine. She won state in gymnastics last weekend. That's what I was calling to tell you."

"She did?" Pride filled Emery's heart and then the loss of not being able to be there and congratulate her consumed all good emotions.

"From what I hear, she knocked it out of the park. Like she rocked the judge's balls off."

Emery laughed in spite of herself.

"Any way you could try to get a video somehow? I mean..."

"I can try, Em. I'll try."

Emery nodded. This was what she'd given up to save herself, to be able to make the marks on her paper now, the ones that showed she was okay. Supposed to be okay. It made her wonder if she was really okay at all, if all of this loss was worth it. She missed Ashley, but the pain that had been in every cell when she lived in Atlanta had waned, making walking through this life every day somewhat manageable.

"Okay, please try. I miss her."

"I know. Fuck."

"What?"

"Well, Em...Emma. I'm a little naked right now and need to go." The phone clattered to the floor. "Shit, now I have shit on my fucking phone."

"Nasty." Emery laughed, picturing a half-naked Rachel cursing and trying to figure out how to sanitize her iPhone.

"By the way, I'm coming this weekend. What do you want to do?"

"Hmm, I'm not sure. I'll figure something out."

"Must go."

"Go."

Emery smiled at the phone as Rachel's face disappeared from the screen. Taking another sip of her wine, she turned the page to the most current psychological evaluation of Lucas. His childhood was scattered around south Georgia. His mother had custody of him. His father wasn't even mentioned. He wasn't diagnosed with autism until two years ago, when he was in second grade. Prior to that, schools had attempted to get his mother's consent to evaluate him for special education services and the mother had always refused.

Lucas had developmental delays across the board, but his test scores were contradictory. On some assessments, he didn't even meet the threshold of intelligence, but his scores were through the roof on others. He'd passed a hearing screening, though Lucas had always been non-verbal. There was a note in the file that he'd taught himself sign language and would attempt to communicate that way.