You're Not My Dad

Chapter Three

Frances leaned against a wall with her arms crossed over her chest. "You want me to do what?"

Thomas rolled his eyes. "I need you to deliver and sell weed to my customers."

"Why?" She asked.

"Because the person doing it before you just got arrested."

"Were they an innocent kid too? Did you force them to sell weed to?" Asked Frances.

"That's not important," Thomas told her.

"So.... yes," Frances decided.

"It doesn't matter," Thomas stated.

"Yeah, it does."

"Why do you think it matters so much?" He asked.

"I don't want to be arrested for doing something that I'm being forced to do!"

Thomas sighed in defeat. "Fine, it was a kid. Are you happy now?"

"No."

"Well I don't care," he said, "we have to figure out how we're going to do this."

Frances raises an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that I already have a plan for you to follow," Thomas said.

"Okay, what is it?" She asked.

"I have a list too with all the steps. I'll give it to you after," Thomas said, prepared for her to forget.

"O-okay."

"So first," he started, "I'm going to return you to the foster home. It will erase any suspicion of this having to do with me.

Frances nodded, though a little confused as to why he thought that it wouldn't draw suspicion.

"And the next day, you will meet me at a place that I will tell you before I drop you off at the foster home. If the woman in charge of the foster home asks, you've found a job."

"What if she asks what job?" Frances asked.

"Say that a family friend hired you to do part-time jobs," Thomas said.

"I don't have any family friends. Both my parents are dead, remember?" Frances smirked, hoping that he'd just let her go.

"An old friend of your mom's contacted you," he invented.

"You knew my mom?" She asked, wondering why someone that knew her mom would be such a terrible person.

"No."

"Then why'd you say it?" Asked Frances.

"Because we need an excuse," said Thomas.

"You need an excuse," Frances corrected, "what's stopping me from running right over to the police station after this?"

"Your friends," he stated.

"What about them?" Frances asked, suddenly defensive.

"You wouldn't want something to, how do I say it? Happen to them?" Thomas asked. Frances rapidly shook her head no.

"Good, then I'll continue. You will follow the directions I give you for that day. Once you're done, you go about your daily life and don't mention this to anyone. The next day, you'll go to the spot that was written on the bottom of the piece of paper. We'll meet there. Understand?" Thomas asked.

"Yep," Frances nodded her head.

"Good," Thomas said, "I'll return you tomorrow. I'll say you weren't behaving properly. You'll start the day after that."

Frances' eyes widened. She didn't know that she'd start that soon. "O-okay," she mumbled.

"What?" Thomas asked, smirking.

"Nothing."

"Good. Now don't unpack. We're leaving first thing tomorrow."

The next day, Frances leaned against the van door, waiting for Thomas to unlock it.

Thomas marches up to Frances. "Get in the car," he snapped.

"I can't," Frances shrugged.

"What do you mean, you can't?"

"It's locked." Thomas glared at her and unlocked the van. Frances climbed in, scared of what he might do if she waited outside any longer.  She quickly slid the door closed and sat down on the floor.

Thomas started the car and drove towards the foster home. He handed Frances the list of things to do, which she stuffed in her pocket.

Thomas stopped the van and Frances got out. Thomas stepped out next to her and whispered, "look sad to be leaving, but happy to see your friends again," in her ear.

She nodded and took a deep breath, realizing she was closer to commuting a crime every second.

She followed Thomas up to the door and into Ms. Schuyler's office. While Thomas and Ms. Schuyler figured out how Frances was going to legally get back in the system, she looked around Ms. Schuyler's office.

Frances had been there many times before but was usually busy being talked at by Ms. Schuyler. The wall was a pale pink color and there were pictures hung up all over the room.

In one picture, Ms. Schuyler was with two other women. Ms. Schuyler was wearing her signature pink color while the other two wore shades of blue and yellow. All three of them seemed to be laughing and having fun. But maybe that was just for the picture. In pictures people are often fake.

As Thomas left the room Ms. Schuyler turned to Frances. "So you got kicked out?" Frances nodded, acting ashamed. "That's good. I was getting a bad feeling from him. You don't need to get mixed up in the wrong type of things, right?" Ms. Schuyler asked.

Frances nodded, thinking that Ms. Schuyler meant it as a joke. The Ms. Schuyler she knew would never accuse a stranger of crime. Especially if there was no evidence.

"Why don't you go get settled," Ms. Schuyler suggested, "I haven't cleared out your bunk yet, it's still yours."

Frances walked out out of the office and up the stairs. She almost made it to the room that she shared with Molly, Margarita, and Jillian when the sound of yelling caused her to stop in her tracks.

"Look, Frannie's back!" Mary said, smirking. Frances Gates the nickname Frannie. She thought that it made her sound like some weak five year old.

"Piss off Jeffershit," she said calmly. Wait. Jeffershit, Jefferson? Was Mary the kid who went to jail before Frances was brought in. As far as Frances knew, Mary had never been to jail.

"But you're back!" Mary said tauntingly, "did the family not like you? Or did you just run away?"

"I said piss off," Frances said before walking into her room. Mary looked up from where she sat on her bunk.

"Frances!" Molly ran to hug her best friend, "you're back!"

"I was only gone for a day," Frances joked.

"That's too long," Molly complained, "what am I supposed to do without you here?"

"Listen to music, read a book, draw," Frances listed a couple of suggestions.

Molly laughed. "Can I help you unpack?"

"I don't have anything."

"Oh."

Frances smiled to herself. She just hoped that the next day wouldn't come as quickly as it did.