Getting the job at the children’s center was easy. Her paperwork said she was eighteen, because no matter what Frank said she couldn’t really be a kid anymore, they needed new staff for more than one reason, and she had a story about being orphaned and newly losing the guy who’d adopted her less than half a year ago, much of which was even true. They put her to work looking after the younger kids, the ones she had been once, before she had gone to the foster home from Hell and the rest of her life had happened from there. It took a while, adjusting to a life of regular honest work, and then work combined with vocational training, but she’s done it.
She’s pretty sure she’s not supposed to have favorites, and most of the kids are sent to foster homes pretty quickly anyway. But twelve year old Rita, one of the many “ash orphans,” is “just autistic enough they don’t want me,” and she’s also obsessed with marine life. So Amy’s taken to showing her pictures and articles on her phone when they both have a free moment, giving her the latest news about how things are going underwater-half the life there dissolving into pollutants was pretty bad, obviously-as well as showing her the photos she’s taken. She’s protected her from bullies, too, because she’s needed that. Noone's said anything to her about it; maybe it makes Rita easier for them to handle.
They didn’t get the chance to talk today, but at the end of her shift a raging thunderstorm leaves her sitting in the lobby, waiting for it to pass. She’s not surprised when Rita comes in and over, and sits in the adjoining chair. And then, looking up at the ceiling, fingers twisting around each other, she says, “I have an interview on Tuesday. Ms. Harris said it’s with this couple who take in autistic kids. She said that they might even adopt me for good.”
“That’s good, Rita, that really is,” Amy tells her gently. “Well, if they are what they say they are, it’s good. I know this is going to be hard, and scary, and you’ll miss me…”
“I don’t want you to talk to me like I’m eight,” Rita interrupts, and Amy can hear now how upset she is.
“Take it from someone who’s gone back and forth between all the situations,” she nonetheless insists. “Though no, I’m still not talking about most of it, but if this goes right, you’ll be better off.”
“I suppose…” she sighs, and she does sound like she’s listening. There’s a pause, then she asks, “Did you get any more photos from Birch Park?”
Amy goes with the change of subject. “I did,” she says. “I finally got to see the tortoises.” She loads up the photos and holds the phone out to Rita, careful not to touch her as always. She’s neither the only child here nor the only friend Amy’s had who dislikes being touched.
Her face really does light up as she looks, and she’s so absorbed she probably doesn’t even notice the storm’s letting up. Amy gives her a couple of extra minutes, but she’s got a class in less than two hours, and she should eat something before then.
When she says, “I have to go, sorry,” Rita gives her the phone back. They both stand up, Rita looking down at the floor, and there’s another, far more awkward pause. She feels like she can’t leave without addressing the news further, but she doesn’t know what to say, not any more than Rita does. That they would probably still see plenty of each other first even if the fosterparents do take her just makes the moment more confusing.
Finally she takes the responsible route. “Barring this couple being secretly evil or something like that, it really is for the better, Rita. I wouldn’t have been able to hope to ever become an underwater photograph, if I hadn’t had people like them to help me.”
“But you’re the only friend I have anymore,” she says. “I’ve always had a lot of trouble making friends. I mean, I suppose you might have left anyway, because I know you’re only here until you don’t need to be anymore. But I’m scared I won’t be able to find anyone else.” She jerks her head as if she wants to look up at Amy.
Amy kneels down to spare her the need, though she doesn’t try to make direct eye contact. “You will,” she says. “Sooner or later. You’ve got your entire life ahead of you; that’s plenty of time.” She very slowly leans in as she says this, then drops her voice to add, “And I’ll make sure you have all my contact information before you go. We can keep in touch, hopefully, and, more importantly, if you ever need any help…”
“Thank you so much,” Rita breathes, and Amy feels a new burden of responsibility, the same one, she supposes, she herself put on Frank Castle and his friends. And when she already knew just what she’d do to anyone who hurt this girl.
Ironic, she thinks, as she walks out a few minutes later, that she’s only felt it when she knows little Rita is about to move away from her, the same way she moved away from her elder nearly a year and a half ago.