If I Fell

Moving in

"Give me a visual, what does it look like?"

I wrinkle my nose, taking a moment to think of an appropriate response.

"It's really... green."

That's the best way I can describe the Washington landscape as it flies by my window. We've passed nothing but forest for the past half hour. Tall trees stand barricading the road on both sides, and a steel-colored sky hovers above us. The caseworker is messing around with the radio, trying to find a station that isn't full of static. He settles on one with a man crooning something about lost love in a country accent. I lean against the door and continue to stare out the window, only wincing a little bit when he starts quietly singing along too.

"Maybe the fresh air will do you some good. You've been in cities for too long," Devyn says.

"I don't mind the air in the city, at least there are things to do there."

"I'm sure you'll find something interesting to do in Forks. Based on what I read online, there's a beach nearby, lots of hiking trails and campsites– "

"What do I look like going camping? And with who?" I ask, with just a little more attitude than is probably necessary.

"Like somebody who is diversifying their interests and activities rather than sitting in front of that computer screen all day," she answers back, matching my energy.

"I'm not on my laptop all day," I mumble, but she's already talking again.

"And you could see if the Webers enjoy camping. In my emails with Mrs. Weber – "

"Mika," the caseworker interrupts.

I tell Devyn to hold on for a second and look at him over my shoulder.

"We should be arriving soon," he says in an upbeat voice. He's been trying to hype me up the whole drive, but it isn't happening.

A glance out the window reveals that we've entered the town limits. Not that it's really that much of a town. We pass what must be their main shopping district, which only takes up a couple of streets. The stores all appear to be very Mom and Pop, with not one big box name in site.

We then start to pass houses, which give off the same quaint small-town vibe. Some are a little run down, with time-worn paint peeling off the sides and sagging front porches. But most are well kept, potential candidates for the cover of Better Homes and Gardens.

I nod and put the phone back to my ear.

"What is it?" Devyn asks.

"Caseworker says we'll be there in a couple of minutes."

I can feel him perk up when I mention him. The soft blue glow about him shifts as he leans towards me.

"Is that Ms. Freeman?"

I nod again, not bothering to face him.

"Tell her I said hello!" he says a little too excitedly. It's my suspicion that he's had a crush on her since they met over video chat. Devyn had wanted to discuss the move and find out more about the fosters, and he fumbled over his words while trying to pick his jaw up off the floor. It was enough to make me gag and be temporarily grateful that she lives across the country. I could not put up with him trying to ask her out. 

"Caseworker says hi," I say begrudgingly.

Devyn's sigh crackles through the receiver.

"Mika. I'm pretty sure 'caseworker' has a name that they would like to be called by. Don't you think?"