Chapter Text
“I say we call her father.” Mrs Briggs smiles, her eyes sour and pointed towards Carly. The principal and Carly both immediately shut down this idea.
“My dad’s stationed in Europe.” Carly explains, rather happy that this was the case, it was unlikely her father would find out about her little visitation to the principal’s office, one of the only reasons she had even agreed to cover for Sam was that neither of her parents would know, and Spencer would hardly care.
“Her father is in the Air Force.” The principal confirms, only widening Carly’s smile on the response.
“There must be some adult in charge.” Briggs frowns, now opening a file cabinet full of enrolment forms. She checks the ‘S’ section.
“My brother, Spencer.” Carly affirms, and Briggs’s frown deepens.
“Your parents need to update these forms then; he isn’t listed as a guardian or as a contact.”
“He isn’t my guardian.” Carly corrects, and wonders where this conversation is going. Both the adults in the room stiffen and give each other looks. The principal carefully leans forward, with his arms rested on the desk, now suddenly coming off as serious.
“When was the last time you lived with your parents, Carly?”
“My father was deployed four years ago. He was back last year to enrol me at school, but he didn’t stay long.” She said. Her father was a Colonel in the Air Force, and was somewhere in Europe, his visits to Carly and her brother were short and sparse. She’d been living with absentee parents her whole life, so her father’s absence was the least of her problems.
Spencer had looked after her plenty well enough on his own.
“And your mother?” Briggs asks.
Carly looks down, and shrugs, not saying anything on the matter. She hadn’t seen her mother for a long time, and the few memories she had of her weren’t all that great.
Although both her parents shared custody of her, her mother hadn’t made another visit since the last time.
Briggs reopens her folder and re-examines the guardian information. Steven Shay’s name was under Guardian 1, and his phone number was scrawled down there, with a small note indicating that he would be difficult to contact due to his position in the air force.
“Virginia Potts.” Briggs reads and relays the number to the principal who immediately begins dialling it into his office phone.
The phone rings out, and they try again, only with luck to the fourth time. The principal answers and begins speaking to her mother. Carly’s thankful that the call hadn’t been on speaker, because she’s not sure if she’d be able to take it if she’d heard her mother again.
She remembers the first time she’d met with her mother.
“Go away!” Spencer yells upon looking through the peephole of the apartment. There’s a sigh from the other side of the door.
“I just – Spencer I didn’t come here to argue with you, I just want to see Carly.” A woman’s voice pleads. Spencer scoffs, and walks away from the door, collapsing on the cheap couch he’d purchased from Ikea, and assembled without the legs, as he decided it was perfectly functional without them.
“Should’a come earlier, then.” He rolls over on the couch and grabs a magazine from the table, a classic show of disinterest in the conversation. “Five years earlier!”
Carly’s curiosity gets the better of her, and she looks towards Spencer with a pleading face. Spencer considers her for a good while before sighing and unlocking the door, to find a strawberry blonde woman at the door, dressed in somewhat professional attire.
“Spenc -” The woman attempts to begin, but Spencer shakes his head and interrupts her.
“I don’t care. Have her back by seven, she’s got school tomorrow. No sugar after six.” The door slams, and Carly looks up at the woman, not knowing how to proceed.
The woman takes one look at her, kneels and breaks into a gentle stream of tears, pulling Carly close to her chest, patting the back of her hair.
“Carly,” She sniffles. “My Carly…”
“I’m your mommy.”
Spencer hadn’t really been happy about their mother showing up, but noticeably hadn’t turned down Carly’s request to see her again. He looked pained, and quietly explained their mother’s absence. Carly had been as understanding as possible when she was five, but she couldn’t quite grasp it all in her mind.
Why would somebody leave their baby with their thirteen-year-old son and full-time working father? Why did she leave? Didn’t she love them anymore?
“She left you with me and dad. Dad was busy working all day, so me and Grammy looked after you.”
Carly tilts her head, somewhat pretending to understand, but still rather confused.
“Why?” She asks, picking up the colouring book Spencer had bought her on a whim with the allowance their father had sent them monthly to cover the expenses of living, Spencer’s law school tuition and other amenities. It wasn’t a whole lot of money, but it was enough for them to live comfortably without wanting for much.
“She got a job promotion that said she had to go to Malibu.”
“To help us? Does she send us some money like daddy?” Carly colours in wonder-woman’s hair with an orange pencil, and her eyes with a forest green.
Spencer hadn’t seen a cent from their mother since she’d left them.
“No.” He gives Carly a tight smile.
Now, though, at thirteen-years-old herself, Carly had a much larger comprehension of what their mother had done to them. She’d deserted them, visited them a few times over the years with empty promises of returning, only to never show up again after Carly’s eight birthday, of which she had promised to show up for. No support, no calls, no Christmases and no apologies.
Carly had been so enthusiastic over the prospect of having a mommy like all her friends at school, having somebody to make a card for on mothers-day, having a little more of her family tree to complete during genealogy projects and more importantly, having confidence that she was just like all the other girls, whose mothers hadn’t left them because they came second place to their careers.
The principal hangs up the phone at the end of the conversation, relaying what had been said.
“Since by law, a child is required to permanently reside with any one of their legal guardians, Carly cannot remain with her elder brother unless an agreement of custody is settled by her current guardians.” He sounds regretful, and Carly knows instantly that the information can’t mean anything good.
“When can that be settled?”
Principal Morita straightens up in his chair, and clears his throat, now addressing Carly.
“I’m not exactly versed in the law, but I’d say the next time both of your parents are together, they’d be able to file something or settle an arrangement in family court.”
Carly swallows heavily, now realising the implications. Her father won’t be contactable for a rather long time now, and there were minimal chances that he’d be willing to meet up and settle something with her mother. Steven Shay almost never spoke of their mother, and when he did, the way of which he spoke about her told Carly that there were some things unresolved between her parents, he still loved her mother after all, but resented the circumstances that their mother had put them in.
“So now?”
“Now we hand this over to Child Protection Services.”
As it turns out, New York was a rather busy area for the child protective services, but they worked as fast as possible and had arrived to take Carly from school by five, most of the teachers by then had gone home for the night, and Principal Franklin had volunteered to stay behind, to sort out a bit of paperwork with the social workers when they came.
In the meantime, Principal Franklin had some work to get done, and offered Carly to be supervised in the gym by one of the coaches who were currently going through basketball practise with the school’s team. Carly had agreed, and sat on the bleachers, fiddling around with her phone for the next few hours or so.
Freddy, her strange neighbour had volunteered to stay behind with her, but once it’d been twenty minutes since school had ended, Freddy had walked home in fear that his mother would get angry with him for being late.
When the social worker arrived, she took Carly immediately with her, and then gathered a few copies of documents that they had for her in the office.
“My name is Merida,” The social worker introduced, as she walked Carly back to her car. “We’ve had a nice chat with your mother, and she’s on the first flight out of Malibu tonight; she’ll be ready to pick you up tomorrow morning.”
Carly grimaces.
“Where am I to stay tonight, then?”
“Your mother didn’t mention anything about temporary arrangements for you. She’s an extremely busy woman. Lucky you, you get to stay in temporary housing back at the office.”
“Can I get my things?” Carly hopefully says. She’s shut down by Merida almost instantly, saying that they’d have all the items that she needed back at the housing unit, and that it was against protocol or something.
The building looked like any other townhouse in Queens. They’d explained to her that the housing unit was directly next to the office of the social workers but assured to her that there was always going to be a case worker in the building at all times in the case they needed anything.
They take her up to the first floor, as the ground floor was exclusively for children ages twelve and under. There were five bunkbeds in the room they had taken her to, and every single bottom bunk was occupied. Most girls had headphones in, and some were reading books that they’d gotten from the dusty old bookshelf in the corridor.
Carly looked around to pick a bed and settled for a bunk above a meek looking girl, who had large round glasses and wild hair.
“Carly?” A familiar voice asks, and Carly whips her head around, looking into the eyes of a very shocked Sam Puckett. Sam was on a top bunk as well, over a girl who was fast asleep with a lollypop in her mouth.
“Sam?” Carly returns.
“What are you doing here?” They both ask each other in unison. They stand in a shocked silence for a few seconds to gather themselves.
“My mother’s in police custody, again. But this time she’s innocent, I’m sure. She’s under suspicion for assault.” Sam explains, and moves the sheets from her bead to reveal an old carving in the wood of the bunk. ‘Sam Puckett’ it read, inscribed with sharp letters. The carving had to be at least five years old, by the way the carving looked dirty, and not as sharp as a fresh incision. “And you?” Sam leans forward, not at all worried.
“They found out I wasn’t living with my mother or father, so they called mom to pick me up tomorrow.”
“Fair enough.” Sam nods, then frowns. “That’s not fair.”
“I know!” Carly almost screams in frustration. She should have every right to be looked after by her brother. He had the qualifications to be a lawyer and worked part time as a one anyway. He was in every definition of the word, a perfectly functioning adult fully capable of looking after her.
“You get to skip school.” Sam continues, with the same frown, completely missing the point of why Carly’s so upset.
Carly hauls herself up onto the bunk and notices a cellophane wrapped parcel. Inside are typical pyjamas for a girl, the kind you’d get in the bargain bin for a dollar a set, a pair of slippers that had a base that felt of cardboard and a travel toiletry set.
At the sound of Carly unwrapping the items, Sam pops her head out from underneath the convers.
“Those are the donations, heh. Rich people buy a bunch of these, maybe like a few hundred and donate them. Idk, sounds like some kind of tax evasion thingy.” Sam explains, and shows off her own pair that she’s wearing. They made her look ridiculous, with the pink little fairies printed amongst the pale blue fleece.
“Did you just say ‘idk’, Sam?” Carly incredulously asks.
“Yep.”
There’s a noise that resounds the entire building, a kind of dinging, the same sort of sound you’d hear when on an aeroplane and the seatbelt sign comes on. Carly listens intently for any kind of message that would come through a loudspeaker. At Carly’s confusion, Sam explains.
“That just means dinner is in an hour. Hot water turns off after dinner, so I’d suggest you shower now.”
Carly begins to crawl out of her bunk, the fabric of the sheets uncomfortably itchy against her skin. She pauses right before she hits the floor, now looking to Sam. She asks something that had been bothering her from the moment she’d seen Sam.
“Sam, how often do you come here?”
Sam kicks back her legs on the end of the bed, her back leant up against a bundle of pillows she’d taken from the unoccupied bunks. She flips a page of her comic book and pops the bubble she’d been blowing with her gum.
“Few times a month, why?” She doesn’t look bothered in the slightest, in fact she looked right at home.
“No reason.”
Carly’s almost out the door when she hears Sam one last time.
“I wouldn’t leave your bag alone, if I were you.”
She takes her school bag and toiletries to the bathroom with her.