Chapter Two

Emily usually opted to save Sunday's for sitting around at home, sleeping in - if she could bring herself to do it, going out for brunch - whether by herself or with company, and simply indulging in as lazy a day as was possible by her standards. Social trips to Birmingham, haven't been on the cards since she left the Benson's shortly after graduation, but after a night of broken sleep she had developed an overwhelming and unfounded urge to return. It simply couldn't wait till the following weekend.

However, she wasn't returning to visit with her godparents, she'd learnt long ago to let them go, to move on. No, she was here to visit Zeke and see what the outcome of the previous days shenanigans had been. Dressed in muted browns and black, Emily trotted through the city, down the familiar pathways, through the park but paused in front of the Hubs entrance, a brown paper bag from the bakery clutched in her hand. She couldn't explain her hesitancy if anyone were to ask, and it was for this reason that she took a breath and proceeded through the doors. Emily did her best to ignore some of the regular staff, she wasn't here to help out, she wasn't here to work... she was here to visit, as a friend. Her eyes scanned the main hall before settling on the woman, Veronica, she was alone, and there was no Zeke in sight.

“Emily? I'm glad you came in today, did you know your phone's disconnected?”

Pam's cheerful voice was unmistakable. Turning to face the woman, Emily offered her a small smile. “I'm currently between places, so I'm without a phone for now,” she lied too easily. To be fair, she had been considering moving again, she was beginning to think she'd become too complacent in her current home. It was turning her soft. She needed to break routine, again.
“Oh, right... er, might I have a word with you? In my office?”

There had been many instances throughout her life when she knew she was in trouble, from her parents, at school, even in social situations where she had maybe overstepped some invisible line... but this, this was new territory. “Of course,” she replied, curious to see what warranted a phone call, or a private discussion of sorts with the Director herself. Emily could only assume it had something to do with the boys and their issues the previous day.
“You're not in trouble,” Pam highlighted as they walked, though this did nothing to curb her curiosity.
“Is there something I can help with?” Emily asked by way of getting the conversation rolling.
Stepping through the Director's door, Emily seated herself in front of the modest laminate plywood desk placing her baked goods in her bag and setting it on the floor beside her.
“There is...” and this was news to her.
“Zeke Rogers,” Pam continued, seating herself and leaning forward resting her arms on the desk between them, her smiling eyes peering at her with a sensitivity she'd not seen before. “He's taken a liking to you,” she added when Emily didn't say anything.
“I suppose,” she replied, already uncomfortable with where the conversation was headed.
“This is a good thing, Emily,” the woman insisted with a nod, “he's never really fit in, and his mother is not far from gone, he needs someone in his corner” and that was perhaps the most blasé a phrase she'd heard the woman speak. Didn't fit in, not far gone, someone in his corner, she could see the dots, but wasn't sure if she wanted to connect them.
“I'm sorry?” she asked, still not liking where the conversation was headed.
“We have an understanding with Child Services, but considering the circumstances Zeke shouldn't have been let to stay here at all. We're able to provide him with basic and immediate care, yes, but considering the condition of his mother, his future is completely insecure... he should have been taken into the system already – put into a good home, sent to school regularly. He needs a family home, not a half-way house,” Pam paused here before continuing, and Emily was grateful for the break in communication, her mind racing to pre-empt where this was going. What was the point with this? “We need you to convince him, that it's in his best interest... to go into the system willingly when the time comes. He will resist it at first, they all do, but it doesn't have to be an unpleasant process.”

Needless to say, it took Emily a moment to process the request and she wasn't at all forthcoming to support it. They wanted her to make sure he didn't do a runner? Condemning the boy to the potential of one broken home after another only to be replaced and upgraded as each year passed... no, she couldn't condone that. But there was no other alternative. The streets, even the Hub, were not in his best interest long term. As far as resistance went, she couldn't blame him for that, couldn't blame any of them for that.

“Where is he?” she asked once they'd reached an agreement.
“I was hoping you would know,” replied Pam.

***

Tracking wasn't all that difficult if you knew your subject, even without magic. She'd ruled out the rest of the Hub, opting to head outdoors. The playground was a definite no, though the park benches toward the west entrance was a possibility, at least, it was where she would go, and where she thought he might. Emily was close, as the benches came into view, she could make out the shape of his small figure huddled in the crook of the bulging roots of the old oak tree, his legs outstretched in front of him as the tree's trunk supported his back.
“Wouldn't it be comfier on the bench?” she asked, approaching from the side.
Zeke considered her for a brief moment, squinting as he looked up at her toward the sun's wintry rays.
“Maybe,” he agreed in the end, flashing a small smile before his eyes trailed to the paper bag in her hand. “What's that?” he asked, nodding at it.
“Figured I'd bring us breakfast,” she replied, moving past him to the bench, crossing one leg over the other and waited for him to join her. “Hungry?”

Zeke didn't hesitate in getting up, practically running to where she sat, plopping himself beside her so forcefully she was surprised he didn't send her flying. “What did you get?” he asked, hazel eyes locked on the bag, his grin all the encouragement she needed.
“One of my favourites,” Emily replied, unfolding the crease in the top of the paper bag and letting him peer inside.
“Cinnamon scrolls?” he asked, “But, that's not breakfast.”
Emily chuckled lightly at his response, “Says who?”
Zeke shrugged, he didn't have an answer to that, and frankly he didn't seem to care, the grin growing on his face evidence of that.
“It's not an everyday breakfast food … but we can make exceptions,” she said with a wink, removing one of the scrolls and admiring its sugary glaze before extending the bag to him to to take his.
“I like exceptions,” Zeke replied, accepting the treat and tucking in. Neither of them spoke while they ate, both licked their lips and fingertips as they consumed the baked goods.
“Cinnamon always has a way of making things seem better,” Emily mused once she had finished, balling up the paper bag and leaving it on the bench beside her for the time being.
“It's because its warm,” he agreed, still eating his, pausing occasionally to pick crumbs off his lap.

At this point she experienced an uncomfortable sensation of squirming in her stomach, but did her best to dismiss it. In her opinion, not that it seemed to matter, there was time for this later... but Pam had been insistent and something told her the woman was as stubborn as she was, only more experienced at it.
“Zeke...” she started, not sure how to approach something as delicate as this. The pastry would hopefully work to her advantage.
His eyes were on her, though his mouth was busy chewing and so he couldn't respond verbally. His small nod was enough.
“... you given any thought to what you'll do when... you know.” When his mum died. Yeah, good going Browne, real smooth, so full of tact.
Zeke swallowed hard, his lips slack and lacking the enthusiasm he sported only minutes ago. He shrugged, opting not to participate in this conversation, Emily envied him that.
“I only ask because... I'm concerned,” she continued. “I shouldn't be telling you this...” and really, she shouldn't, Pam would likely gut her and serve her innards in the Hub's famous Christmas pot pies if she knew. This wasn't part of her plan, but Emily wouldn't lie to the kid, that's where she drew the line. Lies.
“Tell me what?” he encouraged, twisting in his seat so she knew she had his undivided attention.

The corner of her lip pulled up into a sympathetic smile, the kid, had a way of being cute and this was not helping things. “They're going to get Child Services in soon. You need proper care, and the Hub can't give you that, especially once ...” your mum dies. Again, she couldn't say it out loud.
Zeke's face fell, his fingers finding the crevice where his leg met hers, stroking along its length distinguishing between the difference in fabrics. His touch was light and innocent, but so strange. She didn't stop him, rather she watched curiously.
“How soon?” he asked, his gaze staring through their legs.
“I don't know... a few weeks? A month?”