Chapter Text
Angel had a headache. Not a normal, take-two-aspirin-and-sleep-it-off kind of headache but a true why-the-fuck-did-I-think-drinking-four-shots-of-tequila-and-all-that-cheap-beer-was-a-good-idea headache. Except that, in this case, Angel did not have even the satisfaction of knowing said headache was a result of a wild evening out but rather was because her dumbshit caseworker had blackmailed her into showing up for an “emergency appointment” this morning. It was now going on two hours that she had been sitting in the cruddy once-white plastic chairs that lined the wall outside of Kitty Pryde’s “office” which was really just one cubicle set in the center of an endless row of others. Listening to the whining, moaning and general bitching as underpaid government workers all around her stumbled through the hoops of the Department of Child and Family Service’s red tape circus was enough to get on anyone’s nerves. Add in the constant stream of protests and general insolence of a rotating roster of half a dozen or so delinquent teens dragged in on Friday to see their caseworkers and Angel was ready to start banging her head against one of the walls just to make it all stop. Unfortunately, the cubicles' fiberboard would probably just fold right over and snap before she would be able to do any real damage. Pryde had better have a good reason for putting her through all this bullshit, Angel decided.
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When Angel was just about ready to walk out and catch the bus back to her end of town, a harried-looking Kitty Pryde finally swept into view, arms spilling over with files and paperwork.
“Hey. Sorry. Another of my kids just punched his school’s Peace Officer in the nose. Dumbass. You guys know I can’t help you when you willingly fuck up your own lives, right? I swear… It’s not even noon yet…”
Angel said nothing. She slouched into the cubicle after Pryde who immediately dumped her armful of paperwork onto her already-overflowing desk. Angel had enough problems on her own without needing to hear about another of Kitty’s troubled children.
“Ok, but you, on the other hand, have a much better reason for seeing me today. Thanks for coming in, by the way. And, you know, waiting.”
Angel said nothing. It wasn’t like she really had a choice. Or anything better to do, for that matter.
“You know how I’ve been trying to get you into that one home on the East Side for, like, half a year now?”
Angel said nothing. Kitty talked a lot about getting her into a new place but it rarely happened unless it was an “emergency.” The Greer house, the place that fostered her now, was not the worst place she’d ever been. But it certainly wasn’t the best either. The lady in charge was just, sort of, checked out. She wasn’t around much which meant Angel and the four other kids in the home were basically left to fend for themselves. But that, she knew from experience, was worlds better than having a foster who was always around. Even sometimes at night, in the dark, when everyone was supposed to be asleep.
“Well, the guy finally had a spot open up. I had to fight six other case workers, tooth and nail, to get you in. Practically lost an eye. But it’s a done deal. You’re in, Angel. I can take you over as early as Monday night, if you want.”
Still, Angel said nothing. Switching homes was always a bit of a gamble. Especially when you were already with a house that wasn’t as miserable as it could be. There was always the risk that the new place was going to be a shithole that made the last look like a refuge, despite however bad it had seemed at the time. And even the best experience with a foster could still be ruined if the other kids were assholes. Angel had enough experience by now with The System to know dealing with the devil you knew was usually better than starting over with the devil you didn’t. She had just about decided to say as much to Kitty when the caseworker interrupted the thought.
“Look, I know moving sucks. I know it’s always hard to start over at a new home. But Angel, this place, this guy who runs the house, he’s a goddamn saint. He’s really good, we’ve never had a complaint about him, never had any Requests for Transfer, and his kids age out and get real jobs, Angel. Like, real, grown-up jobs. They don’t end up in prison or dead or homeless or on drugs. They move out and they move on, just like they would if The System didn’t chew them up so bad first. I wish we had twenty, no, two hundred more fosters like him.”
Caseworkers were usually idiots and, although Kitty seemed to be less of an idiot than most, it was easier (and safer) to just assume all of them wouldn’t smell smoke even if their hair caught fire. And yet, in the thirteen years Angel had been a ward of the state, she had never heard a foster described quite like that before.
“Ok, whatever.” Angel shrugged.
Kitty smiled and began digging through her stacks to find the forms she wanted for the transfer.
“Great. Monday, then? He works late but says he can be home by seven to get you settled. I’ll swing by the Greer’s around then and we’ll head over. It’s a different school but it’s still early in the year… you ok with another transfer?”
Angel shrugged again. Truth be told, she hadn’t been to school in a while. The Greer Lady had never bothered her about registering when the year started a few weeks back and no Truant Officer had since been by to drag her skinny-ass to class. Funny how little people seemed to care about shit like that once you hit a certain age and time in The System.
Angel pretended to listen as Kitty went over all the transfer forms with her. She signed where she was supposed to, nodded and shrugged when she was supposed to, and took her bus tokens for the ride back when she was supposed to. Kitty promised to be by at seven sharp on Monday and then walked with Angel to the bus stop and made sure she got on. She even waved as Angel pushed her way onto the crowded bus. Angel pretended not to see the gesture and tried to squash the seedling of hope that was threatening to grow in her gut. It was easier not to hope. That way, when everything turned to mierda, it really wasn’t a disappointment. Really. Not at all.