When did someone show you exactly how ugly they were on the inside?

Building the Case

2 days later, I made the mistake of staring too long at Janet’s locked closet. She grabbed my wrist and twisted hard enough that I heard something pop.

Asked if I thought I was smart. Asked if I thought anyone would believe trash like me over her.

She’d been doing this for 8 years and knew exactly what to say. She twisted harder until my knees hit the floor.

3 days after that, I wore long sleeves to school even though it was 95° outside. My teacher asked if I was feeling okay and I said yes because that’s what you say.

Teachers ask but they don’t really want to know. At lunch I watched a girl throw away a whole sandwich because it had mayo on it.

Another kid complained that his mom packed carrots instead of chips. I hadn’t eaten anything but that moldy bread for 2 days and my stomach felt like it was eating itself.

Then Ms. Williams showed up for a surprise visit while Janet was at work. I was watching the little kids which was illegal since I was only 13.

But Janet had trained us good. Told Miss Williams that Janet was just in the shower.

Ms. Williams waited 20 minutes in the living room asking me questions about school while I kept making up lies about how long showers take. She finally left a note on the kitchen table.

When Janet saw that note, she didn’t hit me directly because she was too smart for that. Instead, she accidentally knocked me down the stairs when I was carrying laundry.

14 steps and I hit every single one. She cried about how clumsy I was when I couldn’t stand up right away.

Kept saying we needed to get my balance checked by a doctor. The next day, she made me sleep in the garage for being careless about Ms. Williams visiting.

Lily watched from her bedroom doorway while Janet dragged my sleeping bag out there. Lily was Janet’s real daughter and hadn’t said a single word to me in 2 years.

But that night when I went to get water from the washing machine tab, I found a granola bar sitting on top of it. The wrapper still had the price tag on it from the gas station down the street.

3 days later at school, I spent lunch in the library staring at the big map of Riverside’s bus routes pinned to the wall. The librarian smiled when she saw me taking notes and asked if I needed help with my geography project.

I just nodded and kept writing down which buses went to the police station on Magnolia Avenue and which ones stopped at the hospital. Hollis found me there after the bell rang and waited until we were alone by the lockers.

He looked around first to make sure no one was listening, then pulled up his sleeve to show old burn marks on his arm. He told me Janet did the same Disneyland thing with him last year when Miss Williams came for his review.

The next week, I stood in the girls’ bathroom at school trying to practice what I would tell someone, but my mouth wouldn’t work right. Every time I opened it to say the words about Janet, nothing came out except this weird choking sound.

Janet started getting the house ready for Ms. Williams’ next visit by bringing home bags of new clothes from Target. She pulled fresh apples and oranges out of her locked bedroom closet and put them in the kitchen bowl.

She made us all try on the new clothes and told us to smile more and reminded us that happy families stay together while squeezing my shoulder hard. The morning Mers Williams was supposed to come, Janet left to get her hair done at the salon on University Avenue.

I was sitting at the kitchen table doing Lily’s math homework while she watched cartoons when we heard the doorbell ring. Missed Williams stood there with her clipboard looking confused about why Janet wasn’t home.

I told her Janet would be back soon and offered her some water while Lily just stared from the couch. Mage Williams walked around the living room looking at everything and wrote something down when she saw the locks on the bedroom closet door.

I wonder what Janet’s real plan is here with all this Disneyland show. She’s been collecting that money for 2 years, but suddenly needs to look perfect.

There’s something about the way she switches between nice and mean that makes me think she knows exactly what she’s doing, like she’s done this dance before with other kids. When Janet rushed in 20 minutes later with her hair all perfect, she laughed and made up some story about sisterly bonding time.

But I saw Ms. Williams watching how I moved away when Janet tried to touch my head. After Ms. Williams left, Lily followed me to the bathroom and closed the door behind us.

She whispered that her mom had three other foster kids before me who all got removed, but Janet always got them back somehow. She said the kids never came back though and she didn’t know where they went.

Two nights later, I was looking for another blanket in the garage because mine had holes in it. Behind some old boxes, I found a plastic bin full of newspaper clippings from the press enterprise.

The headlines said things about Janet being cleared of abuse charges and investigations finding no evidence. Three different kids over 5 years and all the articles said the same thing about lack of proof.

Hollis came into the garage while I was reading them and pulled up his shirt to show me the scars all over his back. He said Janet was smart about where she hit and when she did it so no one would hear.

He said she had friends at CPS who helped her, and that’s why nothing ever stuck. That night, I couldn’t sleep, so I did the math in my head over and over.

2 years times $800 a month meant Janet got just for me. I owned three shirts and two pairs of pants from Goodwill and ate moldy bread most mornings.

The numbers made my stomach hurt worse than being hungry did. 3 days later, Mrs. Rodriguez called me to her office during second period math class.

I walked as slow as possible down the empty hallway and sat in the hard plastic chair across from her desk while she typed something on her computer.

She looked up and pushed her glasses up her nose and said, “I’d been marked late 17 times this month, even though I lived closer to school than almost anyone.”

I wasn’t actually late, but I sat on the curb outside until the very last second before the bell rang. Because going inside meant 8 hours of pretending everything was fine before going back to Janet’s house.

Mrs. Rodriguez leaned forward and her voice got softer when she asked if everything was okay at home. And for once, it sounded like she actually wanted to know instead of just checking a box on some form.

I opened my mouth, but then remembered what happened to the last kid who told and just shrugged and said I was bad at waking up early. Two weeks passed before Mers Williams showed up again, but this time she brought her supervisor and they came on a Saturday morning without calling first.

Janet must have had some kind of sixth sense because the house was already perfect when they knocked.

Fresh chocolate chip cookies were baking in the oven and Hollis and the little kids sat at the kitchen table doing homework even though it was Saturday and I wore the new clothes Janet bought the day before that still had the tags hidden inside.

Janet smiled and offered them coffee while I sat next to her on the couch and she put her arm around me and I smiled so hard my face hurt because my life literally depended on making this look real. They stayed for two hours asking questions about school and friends and activities.

And Janet had coached us on every answer the night before with threats about what would happen if we messed up. After they finally left, Janet’s whole body changed like someone flipped a switch.

She stood up and looked at me and said, “I did good.” Then grabbed my arm and dragged me to the garage and pushed me inside and locked the door behind me.

I spent two days in there with no food or water or bathroom sitting on the cold concrete floor, planning exactly how I would run away and where I would go and how I would survive on my own.

Sunday morning while Janet was at church, Lily slipped crackers and a juice box under the garage door and whispered she was sorry through the crack.

She said she couldn’t help more because Janet was her mom, but maybe after she graduated next year, she could do something, but she never finished the thought and I heard her footsteps running away.

Monday morning, Janet finally let me out 5 minutes before we had to leave her school and I could barely walk from sitting on concrete for 2 days.

At school, the nurse called me in for the mandatory scoliosis check and when I lifted my shirt, she saw the bruises all over my ribs from where Janet had grabbed me.

She asked how it happened and I said I fell off my bike even though I didn’t have a bike and she wrote it down on her clipboard but her eyes stayed on my skinny arms and the way my ribs showed through my skin.

That afternoon, Janet started her new plan by telling all the neighbors I was disturbed and had serious mental problems. She showed them scratches on her arms that I watched her make herself with her own fingernails in the bathroom mirror that morning and told them I attacked her during one of my episodes.

She put on this sad voice and said they were getting me help because it was so hard with traumatized foster children who couldn’t bond with normal families. The next day, Hollis pulled me aside at lunch and told me Janet was building a case against me, just like she did with the last foster kid named David.

He showed me the hall closet where Janet kept a folder full of fake incident reports she typed up on the computer about things that never happened, like me threatening the little kids or breaking dishes on purpose or screaming at night.

Mrs. Rodriguez called me back to her office later that week, and this time, her face looked different, like she was trying to solve a puzzle.

She said my foster mom was concerned about my behavior and reported that I’d been hurting myself and showed me an email from Janet with a list of supposed warning signs.

I rolled up my sleeves to show her my arms had no cuts or scratches, but Janet had already planted the seed of doubt, and I could see Mrs. Rodriguez didn’t know what to believe anymore.

Friday afternoon, Ms. Williams showed up at school with official papers and pulled me out of PE class. She had a psychiatric evaluation order that said, “Janet reported I was showing signs of severe emotional disturbance and needed immediate intervention.”

The evaluation was scheduled for next Tuesday at a facility called Riverside Behavioral Health, where it turned out Janet’s friend from church worked as an intake counselor.

That night, I pressed my ear against my bedroom door and heard Janet on the phone with someone talking in her fake concerned voice.

She said I was definitely showing signs of reactive attachment disorder and described me as a classic case who wouldn’t bond with the family and had aggressive outbursts and told pathological lies about being mistreated.

Every word was carefully chosen to make sure nobody would believe anything I might say about what really happened in that house.

The next morning, Lily knocked on my door before school, which was weird because she never came to my room. She asked if I could grab her math from her desk while she was in the bathroom.

I went into her room and saw her laptop sitting open on her bed with a screen still on. The browser had Gmail open and I couldn’t help but notice the subject line of one email that said, “Making them look crazy. What works?”

My hands started shaking as I clicked on it. The email thread was between Janet and three other foster parents from the area talking about how to document behavioral problems that didn’t exist.

One woman wrote about how she’d convinced a doctor her foster son had violent tendencies by bruising herself and taking photos. Another talked about keeping a fake incident log with madeup dates and times of aggressive episodes.

Janet had replied with tips about using specific medical terms that would trigger automatic diagnoses. She mentioned keeping foster kids isolated so they couldn’t make friends who might defend them.

The thread went back months with dozens of messages about maximizing state payments and getting rid of difficult placements. I heard the toilet flush and quickly closed the laptop and grabbed the math book.

3 days before my psychiatric evaluation, Janet put on the biggest show yet. I was locked in the garage doing homework when I heard her start screaming for help outside.

Through the small window, I could see her in the driveway holding her face and crying. The neighbors came running out of their houses and Janet was sobbing about how I’d hit her again and she didn’t know what to do anymore.

Mrs. Chen from next door was holding Janet’s shoulders while Mr. Peterson called 911. Janet had a red mark on her cheek that was already starting to bruise.

She kept saying she loved me but couldn’t handle the violence anymore. The whole time I was pounding on the garage door, but nobody could hear me over Janet’s performance.

When the cops showed up 20 minutes later, Janet suddenly remembered I’d run off and she didn’t want to press charges because I was just a troubled child who needed help, not jail. After that, everything at school changed fast.

Kids who used to sit with me at lunch moved to other tables. Teachers stopped calling on me in class even when I raised my hand.

In PE, nobody wanted me on their team. I heard whispers in the hallway about the crazy foster kid who beat up her mom.

Even the janitor looked at me different when I walked by. Sarah, who used to be my lab partner, asked to switch seats because her parents told her to stay away from me.

The principal started doing random checks where he’d pull me out of class to search my backpack for weapons. Every day felt like drowning in slow motion with nobody throwing me a life jacket.

Hollis found me crying behind the gym during lunch on Thursday. I was sitting on the ground with my knees pulled up trying to disappear.

He sat down next to me without saying anything for a minute. Then I told him Janet was going to win and get me sent away.

He pulled out his phone and showed me the screen. Hollis pulling out his phone at the end there has perfect timing.

Nothing says I’ve got dirt on Janet like a dramatic phone reveal when someone’s crying behind the gym. There were three video files dated from the last 2 weeks.

He said he’d been recording Janet when she didn’t know, catching her real voice calling us worthless parasites who were only good for the checks. My heart stopped when I realized we finally had proof.

Mrs. Rodriguez pulled me aside after school the next day when I was walking to the bus. She asked me to come to her office for a minute.

Once the door was closed, she looked at me with this expression I’d never seen from an adult before, like she actually cared. She said she’d been doing this job for 20 years and knew when something wasn’t right.

She said she’d seen Janet’s type before, the ones who were good at fooling the system. She told me whatever was happening, I could tell her the truth.

But I was too scared because Janet had already convinced everyone I was a liar. The morning of my psychiatric evaluation, Ms. Williams picked me up in her county car, she said.

Doctor Brennan was one of the best child psychiatrists in the district and would help figure out what I needed. The office was in this tall building downtown with lots of Lance in the waiting room.

Dr. Brennan was this older man with glasses who kept writing on his notepad while I talked. Every question he asked was loaded, like when did I start having violent thoughts?

Or how often did I hurt myself? When I said I didn’t have violent thoughts, he wrote something down and asked why I was being defensive.

When I said I never hurt myself, he asked if I was lying to avoid treatment. 2 hours into the evaluation, they gave me a break to use the bathroom.

On my way back, I heard Dr. Brennan on the phone in his office. He was saying yes to someone and then I heard him say Janet’s name.

He said I was showing all the signs she’d mentioned and the diagnosis was pretty clear. That’s when I knew the whole evaluation was just theater and the conclusion was already written before I even walked in.

Lily picked me up afterward and I could tell something was wrong by how quiet she was. Once we were driving, she told me her mom was planning something big.

She said Janet had been talking to lawyers about making me a ward of the state because I was too dangerous for family placement. The car felt like a coffin closing around me.

That night, Janet put on another performance when Ms. Williams called to check in. She had me sit next to her on the couch with the phone on speaker.

Janet kept saying how much she loved me and wanted what was best while her fingernails dug into my arm hard enough to draw blood. I could feel the sharp pain but couldn’t make a sound or move away.

Miser Williams was asking about the evaluation and Janet was using her sweet concerned mother voice saying she just hoped they could find the right treatment plan. Her nails went deeper every time I shifted even a little bit.

After the call, Hollis came to my room and showed me more videos on his phone. He had three recordings of Janet screaming at us, calling us mistakes and saying we were worthless parasites who ruined her life.

In one video, she was throwing dishes while yelling that foster kids were just paychecks with problems. But Hollis said we needed more because Janet always found ways to explain things away or convince people the videos were taken out of context.

The next morning, Janet walked into my room holding a paper like she’d won the lottery. The psychiatric evaluation from Dr. Brennan recommended immediate residential treatment for severe behavioral disorders and oppositional defiance.

My stomach dropped to my feet as I read the words that basically said I was crazy and dangerous. Janet had coached me to fail every single test in question during that appointment 2 weeks ago.

She stood there smiling while I realized I had exactly 72 hours before they’d shipped me to some locked facility where nobody would believe anything I said about her. My hands shook as I held the paper and watched her leave my room humming to herself.

At school, Mrs. Rodriguez pulled me aside during lunch and closed her office door behind us. She said something was wrong with Dr. Brennan’s report because it didn’t match anything she’d seen from me in 2 years.

She started making phone calls right there in front of me, asking other teachers about my behavior and pulling up my grades and attendance records. Her face got more serious with each call as people told her I was quiet but never caused problems.

Ms. Williams showed up for her monthly visit that afternoon and kept staring at things while Janet talked. She looked at my skinny arms when I reached for a glass of water.

She noticed the locks on the pantry door and the bedroom closets. She watched how Janet stood right behind me the whole time with her hand on my shoulder squeezing whenever I started to speak.

Miss Williams asked if anyone else had noticed these behaviors Dr. Brennan described, but her voice sounded uncertain. That night, I made a choice that if I was going down anyway, I’d take Janet with me.

I grabbed my phone and started taking pictures of everything while Janet was in the shower. The locked food closet with a good cereal and snacks we weren’t allowed to touch.

The moldy bread on the counter that was our breakfast everyday. My sleeping bag rolled up in the corner of the laundry room where I slept when Janet said my breathing annoyed her.

The bruises on my legs from when she kicked me for not cleaning fast enough. I was documenting everything when Lily walked in and caught me taking a picture of the punishment chart on Janet’s bedroom door.

Instead of telling her mom, she pulled out her own phone and showed me her photo gallery. She had two years of evidence, including videos of Janet hitting Hollis and pictures of me sleeping in the garage during winter.

She had recordings of her mom calling us worthless and photos of the locked refrigerator at night so we couldn’t eat. Lily said she’d been too scared to do anything, but if I was brave enough to fight back, she’d help.

We sat on my bed comparing evidence when Janet walked in and saw both our phones out with the photos visible on the screens. Her face went from surprised to furious to calculating in about 3 seconds flat.

She looked at us and said, “Nobody would believe two messed up teenagers over a respected foster parent who’d been approved for 8 years.” But I saw something new in her eyes that I’d never seen before, which was fear.

She grabbed both our phones, but Lily had already sent everything to her email and deleted the scent folder. Hollis came in later that night and told us he’d been smarter than all of us.

He’d been uploading his recordings to a cloud account that his biological mom could access from prison. She’d lost custody for drugs, but had been clean for a year and was documenting everything from her side to build a case.

She knew exactly what Janet was because she’d talked to two other kids who’d lived here before us. The next morning, Mrs. Rodriguez called an emergency meeting and basically demanded Miss Williams come to the school immediately.

She’d found three previous complaints about Janet that had somehow been closed without investigation. She’d discovered that two former foster kids from Janet’s house had ended up in psychiatric facilities after similar evaluations from the same Dr. Brennan.

She’d tracked down a pattern that everyone had either missed or deliberately ignored for years. The meeting happened in the principal’s conference room with Mrs. Rodriguez laying out folder after folder of evidence.

Janet showed up playing the overwhelmed single foster mom perfectly, sighing about how hard it was to help troubled children. But Ms. Williams was actually taking notes this time and really looking at the dates and patterns Mrs. Rodriguez had found.

She asked why these previous complaints hadn’t been investigated, and Janet’s face twitched just a little. That night, Janet was weirdly calm at dinner, which scared me more than her screaming ever did.

She looked right at me and said I’d made my choice, and now I’d have to live with it. She reminded me that she’d survived three investigations already, and I wouldn’t survive one.

After dinner, she grabbed my arm and dragged me to the garage, shoving me inside and locking the door from the outside. No food, no water, no bathroom, just me and the concrete floor and the knowledge that transport to the facility was coming in 12 hours.

I spent the whole night on that cold concrete floor, counting the hours by the sounds outside. My legs went numb around midnight.

My stomach stopped hurting around 3:00. At 5:30, I heard footsteps above me and then nothing for another 20 minutes.

The garage door clicked open at 6:00 and Lily stood there with car keys in her hand. She pulled me up and shoved the keys at me and told me Mrs. Rodriguez was waiting at school with Miss Williams.

Her hands were shaking worse than mine. She said, “Go now before mom wakes up.”

I’d never driven alone before, but I made it to school in 10 minutes. The parking lot was empty except for two cars.

I ran through the front doors and down the hall to Mrs. Rodriguez’s office. She was there with Mr. Williams and another woman I’d never seen before.