WHERE THE LOST ONES WILL GO

nine

My probation officer has the hots for my older brother.

She appears to be in her early thirties, has a large mole on her chin, and thin blonde hair. She reminds me of one of the nicer workers at rehab, who let me call Dylan for a few minutes longer than the scheduled time, and who used to sneak me chocolates after dinner. I'm thankful for a nicer probation officer, especially after the horrible stories I've heard, so I guess I'll put up with her flirting with my brother, even though it's making me grow a little more uncomfortable every passing second.

Dylan does not seem to notice it though. My big brother is completely oblivious.

"All that's important is that you get involved with the community, and demonstrate room to change," she summarises. "By volunteering at the community animal shelter, for example, will really help your records."

Dylan is leaning forward in his seat, rubbing his chin. He is much more focused than I am. "And how many hours a week would this be?"

My officer (whose name I have already forgotten – I think it's Jacinta) flutters her eyelashes, and smiles brightly. She's already said 'Great question!' to him three times today, and I'm waiting for the fourth.

"Jude can work her way up. We can begin by an hour each week, and then maybe these visits can become bi-weekly."

Dylan nods slowly. "And the group sessions aren't mandatory?"

"Great question!" There it is. "No they aren't, but they're heavily recommended. It's important that Jude surrounds herself with others in a similar situation to her. All the kids are lovely, and can really connect on their reformed lives."

Dylan glances at me and then back at her. "I don't know. Jude's situation is a little different." Much more severe, he does not say. In fact, not once has Jacinta mentioned my records. Her eye twitched nervously when I stepped into her office, but when she realised that I was not at all like what my history made me to be, she calmed down a little.

"I understand," she sighs. "But meeting with others isn't just to connect, but rather talk and share experiences of being out of juvenile detention."

Dylan isn't convinced and Jacinta sees this. They talk back and forth a bit more, and Jacinta's flirting stops when she realises Dylan is not reciprocating, and is pretty bored of the conversation. She lets us go after handing Dylan her card with her number. She tells him to call her if he has any questions.

Dylan hands me the card when we step out of the office. I then throw the card in the bin.

"Were you not interested?" I ask with a smirk.

Dylan isn't as oblivious as I thought he was. "I'll request that you have a new officer."

I laugh. "It's fine."

"No, it isn't. She should be taking her job seriously."

"Maybe that's a good thing," I point out. "If she doesn't take it seriously, I won't get in trouble."

Dylan raises his eyebrows and sends me a look of disbelief. "I'll call the centre tomorrow."

"No," I tell Dylan when we return to his car. "I don't need another person knowing my record. This is enough."

Dylan's eyes soften a fraction. He knows that I'm burdened with this secret, and that telling more people only makes it harder for me and easier for the secret to come out. I know that my officer is not meant to reveal any background information to anyone – due to the minor confidentiality agreement I was guaranteed at court — but that does not mean I don't fear everyone learning about my records one way or another. I suppose that if I do not make connections with people in this town, and avoid making any friends, then the impact of anyone finding out won't be as bad.