Raised by Wolves

Chapter 81

CHAPTER 81

I’M LEANING CLOSE to the bathroom mirror, trying to put on lipstick. Lacey told me I should look nice, so that’s what I’m doing, even though I don’t understand why looking nice involves painting my lips a different color. I also put on mascara, which makes my eyes look extra big. A little scared, too—or maybe that’s just how they’d look anyway.

“Kai, we have to go!” Lacey calls. “We can’t be late.”

I quickly finish swiping the red across my lips and then run down the steps two at a time. Holo, who’s waiting by the door, gives me a startled look.

“Did you put on makeup?” he asks.

“Yes.”

“In the pitch dark?” he says. “With your left hand?” Then he cracks up.

I snarl at him. How am I supposed to be good at it? I’ve never done it before. I grab a Kleenex on my way out and wipe everything off. At least my hair’s brushed , I think.

I’m also wearing a skirt for the first time in my life, plus a pair of Lacey’s clogs. Holo’s got on a button-down shirt and a tie Lacey must’ve tied for him. It looks like it’s strangling him.

“You’re beautiful children,” she’d told us. “But you have to show them that you’re civilized .”

“Even if we’re not,” Holo had muttered.

Now, Lacey and the chief wear nervous expressions as we drive. Wendy sits in the back with us, dressed in Lacey’s clothes and twisting her hands together in worry. I feel sick—from being in the car, as usual, but also from fear. We’re headed to the county courthouse, where our future’s going to be decided by a bunch of strangers.

Holo whines softly as he stares out the window.

“Hush,” I tell him. “You have to remember to act human.”

Even if it’s too late for it to matter.

“Chester,” Lacey says, “you missed the street.”

The chief curses under his breath. Pulls a U-turn, makes a left, and then comes to a stop in front of a two-story brick building with white columns and an American flag hanging limply over the double front doors.

“I don’t want to be here, either,” Lacey says to us. “But everything’s going to be fine, I just know it.”

I hope she’s right.

There are at least twenty people gathered on the sidewalk, sipping takeout coffee and chattering. They go silent when we climb out of the car. Their eyes follow me and my brother as we walk up the steps to the county courthouse.

Funny how people who never even bothered to pretend to care about me or Holo are suddenly so fascinated about what’s going to happen to us now.

I can feel the growl building in my throat. But I don’t let it out, because I’m trying to act civilized.

The courtroom where our fates are going to be decided is small, bright, and freezing cold. A man with a buzz cut and a weird, patchy mustache sits at a table on the left, making notes on a big pad of yellow paper.

“The state’s lawyer,” Lacey whispers. “Ellis Howells. People say he’s such a you-know-what, his own mother doesn’t like him.”

“What’s a you-know-what?” Holo asks.

“Just be quiet,” I hiss.

The five of us sit down at the other table across the room. A few minutes later, a really pale, really tall man joins us. This is John Adkins, the lawyer for our side. He’s someone the chief knows from high school, who came all the way from Boise to help us out.

“Good morning, everyone,” he says with a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry, we’re going to get this settled real quick.”

“From your lips to the good Lord’s ears,” Lacey says, nodding and crossing herself. But she smiles a little. She seems so sure that it’s all going to work out.

Behind us, the spectators’ benches fill up until people are practically sitting on one another’s laps. What are they hoping to see? Me and Holo growling at the judge? I for one am not going to give them that satisfaction.

Then, just like on the TV shows Lacey likes, we rise for the Honorable Sue Bevins. Judge Bevins is short and seemingly round under a giant black robe. She gives an appraising glance around the room, nods, and then turns to Howells. “Good morning,” she says curtly. “Mr. Howells, if you are ready to begin, you may make your opening statement.”

Howells doesn’t waste a single second. He says, “Your Honor, I’ve been a lawyer for thirty years, and I’ve never seen a case as strange as this one.”

Gee, thanks. I’ve never seen a mustache as strange as—

Suddenly Howells is right in front of us, gesturing at us like we’re Exhibit A of Courtroom Weirdness. “It sounds like a story,” he says. “A fairy tale . A woman finds a little boy and a little girl lost in the woods. They are tiny. They are alone. And they are perhaps only minutes away from freezing to death. So she takes them home. She gives them food, and she warms them by the fire. She saves their lives. And that is the fairy tale part, Your Honor. But then the story gets darker. It concerns what this woman does—or doesn’t do—next. Instead of making any effort to find their parents, or to alert the proper authorities, this woman decides to keep these children, and to raise them herself. Which she does, in utter solitude, for approximately twelve years.”

The people in the room make little noises of shock. They look excited, too—like this case is going to be a lot better than TV. Way in the back I see Mrs. Hardy, with her bright orange hair and her small, mean eyes. The rest of the family’s nowhere to be seen, but Mrs. Hardy keeps sending me quick, furious looks, like it’s my fault that her husband got fined for illegal hunting.

Fine, maybe it is, considering I’m the one who told Chester all about it. But I won’t pretend I’m sorry.

Howells stands taller, clearly relishing the audience reaction. His voice grows bolder. “But then, just this spring, Kai and Holo escaped —”

“Objection,” John Adkins says.

The judge raises an eyebrow. “Sustained.”

Howells isn’t fazed. “Your Honor, Kai and Holo ‘left Wendy’s care’ in April. Immediately upon their arrival in Kokanee Creek, they burgled and vandalized a store. They threatened an employee. The police were called, and they were taken to jail. After spending the night there, Kai and Holo were taken in by the chief of police, Chester Greene, and his partner, Lacey Hernandez. The couple enrolled the children in the local high school, where they got into numerous altercations with other students. During this time, the woman who raised the children, Wendy Marsden”—and here he points to her, a sneer on his face—“made no effort to find or contact them.”

There’s more murmuring among the spectators. A woman with blond braids glares at Wendy, like How could you? You monster! I wish Holo would bite her. I wish he would bite everyone in the courtroom.

“Now, no one is on trial here today,” Howells says smarmily. “Though certainly there is much evidence of wrongdoing by the concerned parties. We are here because of these two lost children. Their fate—their entire future —is up to us. It is our solemn duty to do right by them.” He pauses to let that sink in.

The spectators nod. As if they have any idea what’s best for us! As if they even care .

“It is our opinion,” says Howells, “that doing right by Kai and Holo means making them wards of the state of Idaho.”