by Dahlia Adler
I forgot Trevor was even standing there, but suddenly, he gets his ass in gear and brings me a chair. I drop into it like a lead weight.
“Miss Brandt—Lizzie—your brothers will ultimately need to be cared for by a long-term guardian, whom your parents have presumably designated. Once you’re with your family, a lawyer and a social worker will help you through this difficult time.”
But I stopped listening after “guardian.” Because I know exactly who my parents designated. And it’s someone who can barely handle her own life, let alone that of a thirteen- and seven-year-old.
“Me,” I blurt out. “It’s me. I’m their guardian now. I’m the one in the will.”
The officers exchange a look. “If you, and a judge, feel that you’re equipped to serve in that capacity.” It’s pretty clear from their demeanors that they possess no such feeling about me.
“And what happens if I—we—don’t?”
“You really should talk to you lawyer and social worker, Miss Brandt,” says Dark Hair.
“It’s going to be a little while before I get to do that, considering I don’t have either one right now.” Is someone reaching into my skull and squeezing my brain? It really feels like it. But at least discussing logistics is keeping me from losing it outright. “Please just tell me what you know. Generally.”
“Generally, either they’ll go to another family member—”
“I think we’ve already established that won’t be happening.”
“Or they’ll enter foster care,” Dark Hair finishes.
“No.”
“No, what?”
“No, you’re not making my brothers into foster children. They’re my brothers. I’ll do it. I’ll take care of them. I can. I promise.” This is sort of a lie, but it’s all I can say right then.
“Lizzie, come on,” says Trevor.
“Fuck you, Trevor. No one asked you.” I turn back to the officers. “How does this work? What happens now? When can I see them?”
“First, let’s get you back to your room,” says Blondie, shooting a glare at Trevor. “We can talk there, or you can come to the station.”
“Yeah, sure, whatever.” I’ve had enough of Trevor’s room anyway. I need to get out. I need to breathe fresh air. “Let’s go.”
I’d completely forgotten that there was an entire frat party taking place in the house until I followed the officers downstairs and found myself being stared at by every single resident of Greek Row. It’s hard to tell what people know; some faces are disgusted, some sympathetic, and some are just curious. I focus on the back of Blondie’s head as we walk out the door. It isn’t exactly how I’d imagined my first time in a police cruiser would be, but there really isn’t anything about this night I’d pictured happening as it does.
Only when we pull away from the house, and Trevor and Sophie are gone, and I can hear the music blast from the house once again, do I fall apart in the backseat and cry.
