Age 12
He had all the paperwork in hand. Most of it was fake. In truth, all of it was fake, but most of it looked real, and the parts that strayed a little far were close enough that a random school administrator wouldn't know the difference.
The last time he had tried this was four months ago, and he had failed to realize that the school required a notarized document for leasing, which wasn't something he could photoshop.
He and his sister ended up having to leave the state after that - it was too risky to stay and try another school district. Finding a good spot to settle was difficult beyond measure. Everyone knew each other in rural areas, and they didn't have a house, just a shitty old car he had stolen and slept in. Someone would notice sooner or later.
Then there were the more urban schools. They were fine, and due to the high turnover, missing documents or a sketchy story that would usually raise red flags were often lost before anything could be done about them. Being understaffed seemed like a bitch and a half. He didn't want to, but he'd try that one next if his plans hadn't worked by year's end, only six months away.
The difficulty was that he was being selfish. He knew that, but couldn't help himself. He wanted the best. Not just acceptable. He didn't run away from the compound just so he could rot away. His sister deserved that much too, and he'd be damned if either of them got anything less than the best.
The issue was that the best actually checked his documents. Getting caught by CPS or the police was on the table, and it had almost happened the last time. The only reason he got away was that he checked around the school before his appointment time and saw people who shouldn't have been there checking license plates in the parking lots.
This time, things would be different. Solis had done everything right. He triple-checked the requirements, stole cardstock, and used it to print a commune birth record for himself, his sister, and his fake uncle, who had a caregiver affidavit (fake, of course) to explain why it was the uncle and not the father registering them.
Solis had sublet a house under that same fake uncle's name for the first floor of a duplex. The landlord hadn't cared much after he said he'd pay in cash. The bills were issued in the landlord's name, but the sublease agreement should serve as proof of residence.
Securing all that money for the sublease agreement and security deposit had been rough, and he had stolen most of it in the form of wallets, bikes, and the like.
The vaccination records were less painful, and had been taken care of a while back. People didn't ask as many questions in rural areas, especially when he said they were homeless. Anytime someone said something along the lines of "hold on while I get someone," he just walked outside, got in his car, and drove off repeatedly until someone didn't ask questions and gave his sister and him the fucking vaccines.
The clinic that finally didn't ask questions had him staying in town for a month between vaccines. He didn't technically have to - they got a provisional record that they could then use at any clinic - but Solis liked the nurse, and they didn't ask questions. It also let him do odd jobs to earn some money for food.
He was ready. He had covered everything.
With his folder of fakes, Solis walked into the front office. Behind the counter, a woman in a floral cardigan looked up at him. Her attention turned from the paperwork to the small, twelve-year-old boy in front of her.
"Good morning," she said, her voice bright as if she had just eaten a particularly nice-tasting strawberry. "How can I help you today?"
Solis took the manila envelopes tucked under his arm and held them up to the woman.
"My name is Solis. Uh, Solis Johnson. Ma'am. My uncle talked to the office on the phone the other day. He's at work right now so I'm supposed to bring you these documents… for the registration."
"Yes! I do remember that call," she tapped her fingers against the keyboard. Each tap sent Solis's heart racing. Did he get everything? How fast could he get to his car?
"He mentioned he'd stop by," she said, a distinctly sour expression passing over her face. "You must be his nephew then, nice to meet you. You can call me Mrs. Gallaer."
Mrs. Gallaer then gently plucked the folders from Solis and began laying them out. "Did he happen to include a copy of his photo ID in here as well?"
Solis breathed out. He had planned for this.
"He didn't give me his ID. He can't drive without it. He said the Certificate of Blessing from our church would be enough?"
The woman's expression faltered for a moment as she looked at the odd paperwork in front of her. Solis held his breath. It wasn't conventional, but to his surprise, on doing some research, the U.S. seemed to have a lot of allowance for 'my religion says I don't have to', which was great for him. Meant he didn't need an official birth certificate to enroll in school.
"Oh," she continued, "I see. Uhh. Usually, we really do need that state ID to match the lease, but since he's at work, we can't really do that, can we?" She sighed, looking back at the screen. "I'll start the file with the religious record, but the principal or I will really have to see your uncle with his ID before next week."
Solis's heart sank, and he was most of the way to walking out the door and calling this whole state a bust, but the woman kept talking, so he stayed put.
"What else do you have? A lease and utility bill. Uhh. Sorry, the utility doesn't seem to be your uncle's?"
"We sublease," Solis snapped back to the moment, the question triggering some sort of muscle memory response from how much he practiced. "If you look at the lease, you'll see the utility matches with our landlord."
"Ope. You are correct! Thank you for that. For subleasing I'll put it in as provisional for now, but the district likes these things notarized. Not strictly necessary though."
Solis wanted to scream. He had specifically chosen this school because the district website said they didn't require them.
"All that means is that the district might send a mailer by the house. Just to verify you and your uncle actually live there."
"And my sister?"
"What was that hun?"
"My sister too. Her paperwork is also there."
The smile returned in full on the woman's face. "It sure is! Good work you!"
Solis fought his instincts to preen like a fucking bird. He could deal with a mailer. He did actually live there after all, or would if he could figure out what the hell to do about his uncle not existing and there being no ID.
"Lastly, what was the name of your and your sisters' last school? We'll need to send for your records."
Another prepared response. "We were homeschooled, but I have the list of courses we took, as well as the ones we did on Khan Academy. Scores included." He pulled out additional sheets of paper that he hadn't handed her before. The results, as he had learned from a quick Google search, were, apparently, impressive. They also had the added benefit of being true. Even through the constant travel, he always found a library to stop at so he and Maya could keep up with their schooling.
Solis had completed Calculus I, while his sister was a bit behind in Algebra II, but she had four years to catch up. Sciences, they were on track. Their history was rather shit, which made sense. English was mostly classic readings like Edgar Allan Poe or Frankenstein. There was one about a dude turning into a roach, but he forgot what it was called.
All he knew about that book was that the author didn't want it published, and his asshole friend made a profit off it after his death. Solis had stolen the book instead of buying it, so he didn't feel that bad about reading it. Allegory for depression or something. He didn't know.
"Oh wow," Mrs. Gallaer said, voice dropping flat in surprise. "How old are you?"
"Twelve ma'am."
"Well, the school tests homeschoolers for proficiency, but we can get the testers out here as soon as tomorrow, but we'll need to see your uncle down here first… Mary Shelly… how'd you like the book?"
"Not much ma'am. I didn't like the doctor much at all."
That got a soft smile out of the woman, "A shame, but I agree. He is a bad man." After a few more keystrokes, she turned completely to face Solis.
"It sounds like your uncle, or whoever is teaching you, is doing very well. I've got everything I need from you. Ope, almost missed the emergency contact card. Just put the secondary point of contact there and we'll be good to go!"
Solis put down a number for one of his burner phones and smiled at the woman.
Once he was back in the car, he almost started crying in frustration, but he held back.
"This sucks." He said to himself, hands shaking. "This really really sucks."
Less than fifteen minutes later, he was in their sublet two-room duplex. Maya was buzzing with excitement as he came in, and he instantly dropped his weariness. She couldn't see him like that.
Oh gods within, how would he tell her it wasn't going to work? That they'd have to be going again. She really liked her new room. He had managed to find a place that came furnished, a major miracle in his eyes.
"How'd it go? How'd it go?" She grabbed onto his hand and began hopping from one foot to another.
"Pretty good," Solis lied. "Just one minor hiccup, but it's easy enough to solve."
Maya threw up his hand and began cheering. "It's going to be fun, right! You said they have a soccer team?"
Solis ruffled the demon's hair, "Yeah Ya-ya," his little nickname for her. "I gotta go for a little bit to iron out that minor thing. Eat the leftovers in the fridge."
"O-kay", she elongated the word and ran over to the fridge and her stepstool so she could reach the countertop.
Solis got back into the old, rusted car, a pile of books on his seat so he could see better, and drove to the library.
A Google search of "where to buy fake IDs" came up with internet threads about sketchy websites and a few Reddit stories about finding a fake maker in college at a party.
He didn't trust the websites, so... random college party it was. His face flushed in embarrassment, and he wanted to curl up and die.
He'd look so fucking stupid showing up to a college party. Not only would they not let him in, but they'd probably ask whose little brother he was. It took all his control not to scream in the silent library, and he only just succeeded.
"This sucks," he whispered instead.
Two hours later, and a bus ride to the nearest small college netted him a few large buildings called "frats". Maybe… maybe he'd start outside. Try to joke.
Older girls thought kids were cute, right? He could run up and say his older brother wanted to know where to get a fake?
Gods, he was going to die of embarrassment.
---
"Oh my god, you're so cute! Your brother is, like, such a slacker, making his little brother do his dirty work. Who's your older brother? Is he hot?"
Solis opened his mouth, but another drunk girl in the group cut him off. This was not going how he hoped it would.
"Do you live close by? Is your brother here?"
Those were a lot of questions he didn't have answers to.
'Fuuuuckkkkkk' he thought.
"Pffftt," a third one laugh-snorted. "My girlfriend goes to another district. You wouldn't know her," the girl continued laughing while her other friends looked on incredulously.
Solis used that moment to book it out of there. One of the girls shouted after him, but he was long gone. He didn't have long legs, but they were drunk and in heels. They wouldn't chase him.
Or so he thought.
A hand snatched the back of his shirt as the girl who asked the difficult questions stared down at him. Apparently, she knew how to kick off her heels and chase a child. Shit.
"Seriously kid. Where are your parents? It's not safe out here. Is there someone we can call to give you a ride home?"
"It's nothing really!" he squeaked out, cursing his short legs. "I actually live just around the corner. Running home! Haha."
The girl looked contemplative for a moment before nodding. "If it's so close I'll walk you there."
'Hahaha fuck my life.'
"Okay!" he said instead.
It took a moment for the girl to retrieve her heels and begin walking alongside him. He wanted to try running again, but the girl's two other friends had come by, so he missed his window.
This… really wasn't going the way he wanted.
They walked in awkward silence with small whispers between the girls. They walked for seven minutes before the one who asked the hard questions spoke again.
"You don't live around here do you."
"No." Solis said, defeated. Now he just needed to find another lie that would get him out of this.
"Why are you looking for a fake?" she asked, kneeling down to his height.
A lie came to him. "My school needs my uncle's ID, but he's a trucker, and he's gone." He kicked nearby grass and pouted to really sell the act. Not that it was much of an act, he was fucking furious that things weren't working how he'd hoped.
"Your uncle? Can't you use your aunts?"
"I don't have an aunt." The girls winced, but said nothing.
"Look. Kid. We really do need to get you home. You shouldn't be wandering around. I don't know any fake ID makers, but that's not something you should be looking for either."
"Plus," the snorting one said, much subdued. "It wouldn't even work. Fake IDs are meant for shitty bouncers not school scanners and the like. Can't get stuff like that unless you're like a dark web guy."
Solis filed that away.
"Mia! Don't put ideas in his head," the one who asked questions hissed.
"Ope," Mia said, "sorry."
"Well, my night is shot." The girl let out a long-suffering sigh, to which Solis sympathized. "Kid. Tell me your address, and we'll Uber you home. I'm done for tonight."
Around thirty minutes later, Solis found himself back at home, Maya having already gone to bed.
He latched onto one thing. The Dark Web. He didn't know what that was, but the internet probably knew. He'd check tomorrow. Maybe it was a place people could buy things like fake IDs.
---
Solis decided he needed to steal a computer. A laptop, to be specific. It wasn't that hard once he put his mind to it. You just waited for someone at a coffee stop to go to the bathroom and left with their computer. The difficult part was that some of them had passwords, which sucked. The ones that did have a password, he sold on eBay through drops. Sometimes the laptop would just be stolen back, but sometimes the people actually did leave the money, which was a nice bonus.
He was able to do that because one of the first computers he stole wasn't locked, which he used to set up an email account and the like. Then he researched how to access the dark web in between placing stolen laptops in discrete locations.
The short answer was that it was complicated. The long answer is that it was actually really simple once you had the software installed and knew exactly which website you wanted to reach -- which was the hard part. It took scrolling through dozens of forums to find what he was looking for, which was a forum that had a catalogue of other forums, which eventually led him to minor illegal things he could buy. Things like fake IDs.
From there, he had to buy Bitcoin, a weird currency he didn't understand at all. He only got any by buying some with cash and then only selling laptops for bitcoin from then on. His sales dropped dramatically, to say the least.
On the fourth day of his excursions, he got a call on his burner phone from the school. Bringing out one of those old, silly toy voice-changing microphones, he answered the call, crinkling a piece of paper by his waist for added effect.
"Hello, is this Mr. Johnson?"
"Yes, sorry. I'm on the road. Who is this?"
"This is Mrs. Gallaer from the front office. We're calling to see when you can make it in to fill out some forms?"
"Ah shit." Solis did his best approximation of what he thought a trucker would sound like. Southern, a little rough."
"Sorry, won't be able to make it for a few weeks. Went on a long haul. The kids are staying at a family friends."
"I see. Well. We'd really like to get you in here soon. Classes start in less than a month and we can't enroll them until you're here in person."
"I'll be back before then. First thing I'll do. Thanks for the call." Then he hung up.
He silently screamed and then went back to researching. He'd finally found a website, but it needed a photo… and he needed to find someone willing to pretend to be his uncle.
'Fuck my life.'
---
Solis had selected an image of a white man who looked decently generic. It looked like his head had just been shaved, and the ID was set to expire within the year. Hopefully, that'd give him enough leeway in who he got to play his fake uncle. That was the fourth one he had bought. None of them had come in yet, but one of the first things he had learned on the forums was that the dark web was full of scams. So he was hedging his bets with four. He would've done more, but he didn't have enough bitcoin.
Currently, he was at a construction site looking for people who looked fed up with life and could pass for the person in the image. He had found several, but wanted to wait until he saw one that looked particularly sketchy or down on their luck. He found one, waited until their shift ended, and intercepted them before they left the parking lot.
"This is going to sound really weird," Solis started, and the man almost jumped with a start. "But you look like my uncle. He's a trucker and didn't fill out all the paperwork my sister and I needed to enroll in school before he left on a long haul. The school won't accept video calls. I really can't afford to miss school like this. He left his ID and you look like him, so could you sign like three papers in the office? It'll be quick, in and out. I have some savings I can give you, too."
The man, still with a flabbergasted expression, let air blow out his lips. "What the hell kid. What are you doing running up to people like that. Didn't that uncle of yours teach you manners. Scared the shit outta me."
Solis wisely stayed silent and let the man process the crazy thing a twelve-year-old had just requested.
"Left his fucking ID? As a trucker? Is your uncle brain damaged? Surprised he didn't turn his ass around as soon as he found that out."
"He has a picture on his phone. He said it would be enough if he got pulled over, but that he wouldn't get pulled over."
"Cocky." The man grunted. They scratched the back of his head. "Just signing some papers. Your uncle knows about this?"
"He suggested it."
The man just gave Solis a blank stare, barely blinking. "Okay. Look. I'll do it for like 200 bucks. That's crazy, but if your uncle says its fine I don't really care. Where's this ID?"
Score
"At home. It's too late to go today anyways. Office is closed. I'll call you when its time. Shouldn't take too long. Can do it on your lunch break."
"Sure kid," the man sighed.
---
"Why are you in the drivers seat?" The construction worker, Mike, asked.
"What do you mean?" Solis asked, genuinely confused.
"I mean why are you driving. You're not old enough to have your license."
Solis… did not realize that people actually cared about that. He had thought that was just a thing people said, not that people actually cared. He looked to the window and back to Mike. "That's what the tint is for… I think."
"Jesus kid, what is going on with you?"
"I'm from the countryside. I don't know this is pretty normal out there. Things are more lax."
"Lax is one thing, but— why do you even need to drive?"
"Groceries?"
"Groceries! Doesn't your uncle buy them."
Solis gave the man the blank look he practiced. The one that said "you're an idiot" without saying it. He was quite proud of how it looked. "Produce doesn't last more than a week."
Mike thought about that for a moment and winced. Solis wondered when the man had last had a tomato or anything green that wasn't on a burger.
That wasn't fair. The man actually did look quite fit.
"Still. Lax is one thing, grocery store at twelve is another. Heavy load you got there little guy. That doesn't matter though. I'm not letting a twelve year old drive me anywhere. Gonna get me killed."
Solis shrugged. He didn't mind. Wasn't his car anyway. He slid over to the passenger seat, not even bothering to get out of the car and buckled back in.
"I want to see the ID first." Mike said, and Solis handed it to the man. Two had ended up arriving, which was one more than he needed to.
"God damn that is the most generic looking white man I've ever seen. Plus he's bald. I'm not bald kid."
"Yeah, but it's almost expired. He grew his hair out. It looks like yours."
"Your uncle has a mullet?"
"Yeah"
"Whatever kid. It works for me. I'll throw on my baseball cap and we'll be good."
They drove in relative silence the rest of the way. He parked the car, and they got out.
Mike shook out his arms. "Ready kid. Quick in and out. Easy."
Solis thought Mike was doing his whole song and dance to hype himself up more than the twelve-year-old, but it didn't really matter either way. With one final hop, Mike stepped into the main building and B-lined it to the office like he had some place to be after this. Solis rushed after the man and managed to keep pace as Mike pushed into the office.
"Mrs. Gallaer right? We've talked on the phone. Sorry for the delay. Solis said you need the ID and some signatures before I head back out."
"Yes, sir," the woman smiled, looking between Solis and Mike. She received the fake a moment later, and besides a cursory glance at the ID and the fake uncle, she didn't bat an eye.
Forms are signed, and the office lady clicked her tongue. "These all match up, so I'll get them scanned up here real quick." She continued talking as she put each document in, one after the other.
"So," she starts, throwing a casual question over her shoulder. "Solis mentioned you're doing long hauls out of the Midwest? My brother-in-law drives for Schneider. Who are you with? Maybe he knows your route."
'AHAHAHAH FUCK ME. WHY! YOUR BROTHER IN LAW? ARE YOU FUCKING WITH ME GOD?'
Mike stiffened, clearly not expecting the question either and likely not knowing the answer. Solis had to take matters into his own hands, fast. He let out a suffering, childish groan. "Please don't get him started Mrs. Gallaer. He won't stop." Then, after a beat, hoping to smoothly change the subject, I continued. "Uhh, classes start soon too right? When are my sister and I supposed to be taking those exams? The ones for placement? How does that work?"
Mrs. Gallaer thankfully took the bait and chuckled. "Never seen a kid so excited for school. Well, we can get you in for testing as early as tomorrow morning at ten if that works for you Mr. Johnson."
"Sure does," Mike answered, already turning for the door. "I just drive the truck, whatever this little guy needs." He then proceeded to give a beaming award-winning smile so convincing that Solis briefly forgot that the man wasn't his uncle.
"Perfect. We'll get you in for that, and we will see you and your sister tomorrow morning at 10AM!"
They left, and it took all of Solis's power not to cheer and dance around like a madman. Mike and him talked as they drove back to the parking lot where Mike's own car was. Solis paid the man, and Mike began walking away before hesitating slightly. "Word of advice kid. Don't drive around. Take the bus if you have to. Ain't great, but children driving gets real messy real fast."
Solis wanted to refute right away, but considered it.
Things were a little different now. If he got caught, it was over. There was a paper trail now, and Maya would no doubt want to settle down. They were safe; no need to risk getting pulled over on a random Thursday. So, he nodded, "I promise. After I go home, just the bus."
Mike smiled. "Good lad."
"Think you could drive me to the store then? I want to pick up a cake for my sister."
Mike sighed. "Sure."
Solis never met the man again after that.
---
"We get to go to school. We get to go to school." Maya sang in a staccato rhythm, doing a little dance with her arms and shoulders like she was running all the while.
"Told you," Solis smiled. "Just a minor hiccup. You've been studying up on your math like I asked? You gotta do really good on tomorrows test. So, we'll get good sleep tonight and in the morning we'll have a biiiiig breakfast."
"We get to go to school," Maya said one last time before nodding and saluting her brother. "Aye aye cap."
The night came and went. Day broke, and Solis made chicken and waffles with eggs. Really just got the whole chicken up in there. They ate and left early to take the public bus to school, paying a total of two dollars and fifty cents.
They went to separate rooms and began their exams.
---
"This is the easiest grading I have ever done." Mr. Hither said, to which Mrs. Hither grunted in agreement. They both taught at the same school, same subject—math—just different grade levels. They were old, having been professors once upon a time, but decided to settle down somewhere quieter, their love of teaching the only thing keeping them active nowadays.
"Once I got the notation down it was basically just a copy of the answer sheet."
Mr. Hither stilled. "You think they got hold of the answer sheet?"
His wife grunted again. "No. The logic is sound. Can't remember stuff like this. Different numbers, too. Changes the problem a bit.
"I really thought they were bullshitting."
"We get some every year."
"I think she aced it."
"He did too."
"He'll have to go to the local community college for anything else."
"The Maya girl probably has to be bussed to the high school in the mornings."
" Both Home schooled?"
"Yeeep."
"Well. That only took a couple minutes. Turn these in and drink hot chocolate?"
"Yeeep."
Age 15
Jenny, Diane, Sarah, and Beth had been friends since they were children at the local high school, and now all their children were running around in the same place they had been. Jenny briefly wondered if one day their girls would all be sitting at a table drinking breakfast mimosas on a Thursday.
"I have to say," Diane began, "I'm going to miss Leo being home so much next year. Ever since his dad moved back it's been all 'split custody this,' and 'split custody that.' I mean seriously?"
"Show me the court order for that. Sunnvabitch is only interested now? Haven't heard from him in nigh on six years," Sarah agreed.
"Then you've heard from him more recently than I have before this," Diane huffed, gulping down the rest of her drink in one fluid motion.
"Speaking of Leo, I believe yours, Jenny's, and my boys are all doing calc early at the community college," Beth practically whisper-screamed in excitement. "Gosh, I'm just so proud of them."
"I wish I had a boy their age," Sarah sighed. "Maybe then that little Solis boy of yours, Jenny, would teach mine how to be a genius too."
Jenny rolled her eyes. "He's not my boy, Sarah. He's my daughter's best friend's brother, who I pay to tutor my son. I'm sure he'd tutor your daughter if you asked."
"And let that boy near my girl! No, ma'am. She'd fall head over heels. I'm pretty sure she has a little crush even now, not having said three words to him."
Beth cut back in, shifting the topic back, "Please, Jenny, he's basically yours. I've seen him with you more than I have that uncle of his. What's his name again?"
"Beth. I have just as little clue as you do. I've asked, but I never seem to know. I think it's Mike or something."
Sarah raised her hand like she was on a game show and knew the answer. "Yeah, Mike, his boy helps Mark with landscaping sometimes. That boy, Solis, refuses to set up a bank account. It's the funniest thing. You hear, Mark told me he cited religious exemptions. Cracked me up."
The table went silent for a moment.
"Has anyone actually seen his uncle?" Beth finally asked.
"It's none of our business," Jenny said through another drag of alcohol. "They look well fed, both top of their class. Hard workers, too. Maybe we don't see the uncle, but whatever he's doing, it's working better than what half the parents in the neighborhood are doing."
"Still, it's more than a little worrying." Beth sighed
"Leo likes him," Diane put forward. "They're not best friends or anything, but apparently he's really nice. Wouldn't hurt a fly type. Good at conflict resolution, he says. Hasn't been bullying in his classes at all."
"My Taylor is friends with them both, too. A little odd, jumps a bit much," Beth offered. "What about Maya?"
"His sister? She's good." Jenny offered, feeling a headache come on. "She was at the sleepover with the girls last weekend. Brought the huzz and I hand written thank you notes."
She didn't mention how the girl slept with her shoes under her pillow. Or how, while all the other girls brought a suitcase full of clothing -- and the majority of a Sephora store -- Maya had brought a camping sack with water, a medicine kit, snacks, and a portable charger. She especially didn't mention that the girl had woken up three times in the middle of the night and snuck to the living room to call her brother to make sure he was safe. Not okay. Not alright. Safe.
"My daughter says she's the only girl in the eighth grade that doesn't have a 'celebrity crush' Who doesn't have a crush at that age?"
Jenny mentally sighed and dropped her nuke to talk about anything else. "How's Brad these days, Dianne?"
---
Jenny stood, leaning over the marble kitchen island, blankly poking at a salad she had made. The house was quiet. Her daughter Ruth was upstairs, and the only sound came from the AC vents.
After a few more minutes of picking at the greens, her husband came in from the garage and gave her a big kiss on the cheek. "How was brunch? Not good, I take it? You're moping."
"I am not moping," Jenny shot back.
"What would you call this then? You're practically bursting with excitement to tell me the latest gossip usually."
Jenny sighed, finally letting her fork drop. "Greg, do you remember when Ruth had that nightmare a few months back. How she screamed and screamed even after she woke up?"
Greg was more cautious now, "Yeah?" He slowly said, wondering where his wife was going with this story, no doubt.
"Well, I was talking with my friends at brunch and the topic of Maya came up, and I was thinking about it, and last week, when the girls had that sleep over Maya woke up three times because of nightmares."
"Really?" Greg frowned. "I didn't hear a thing."
"Neither did the girls. She just walked into the living room and started to call her brother. Full sobbing, but not a sound. Tears streaming and streaming down her face, but there's not a peep from her. She didn't notice me up, and when I asked what was wrong, she said she had a really bad nightmare was all."
Her husband nodded, "A bit weird. Yeah. You think she's alright?"
"I don't know." Jenny sighed again. "But she literally slept with her shoes underneath her pillow. She told Ruth it's because she liked having them close. And the bag she brought wasn't for a sleep over... It seemed more like a go bag than anything."
Greg again stayed silent, but wore a thoughtful expression.
"Greg," Jenny started. "Solis works for you sometimes. Have you ever seen his uncle?"
"No," Greg shook his head. "I haven't."
"I think they're alone in that duplex down the street. I don't think there is an uncle."
"Jen, now hold on." Greg brought her into a hug. It was warm and comfortable, and she found herself melting into it with ease. "That's a big leap. If they were alone, the school would know. They couldn't have gotten in or stayed in without CPS getting involved."
"How?" Jenny asked. "Actually, how? They're perfect, Greg. Perfect. Eerily so. Both straight A's. Solis is practically a genius. They never get in trouble or even risk it. They're polite. Look athletic and strong for their age. There's no reason to check."
"So what are you saying? If you're right and we call someone, and you're right, what happens? They get taken by the state and separated instantly?"
"I don't know! All I know is that was the first time Maya ever accepted a sleepover and Ruth has been trying to get her to come since they met, but what if they're in trouble? What if they need help. Or god forbid the uncle is real but he's abusing them."
"Would it make you feel better if I talked to Solis? Man-to-Man. Make sure everything's alright."
Jenny was almost shaking with fright, but she nodded. "Could you do that for me?"
"Of course, love." Then her husband leaned down and gave her a gentle peck on the forehead before bringing her head into his chest. "Anything for you."
---
The sun was beginning to crest the horizon, painting Greg's backyard in shades of orange to match fall leaves. He had hired Solis to help him replace a few of the rotting boards on the back deck. He could've done it himself, but it was easier with two, and it gave him an excuse to talk with the kid.
The kid was good, too. Knew his way around the tools and didn't crack himself in the thumb trying to drive a nail. Bare minimum, but sometimes that was enough.
"All done, want a Gatorade or something from the fridge. I'm getting a beer, but you can't have that."
"A Gatorade would be nice, sir."
He came out with the drinks a moment later and took a seat, motioning for Solis to do the same, and he did.
"You know," he started, buying himself enough time to find the words, but forcing himself to start. "My wife and her friends… they talk. A lot. About school, about the soccer team. You got brought up recently."
He watched Solis stiffen. The boy flicked his eyes to three exits: the back door into the house, the stairs leading to the yard, and the railing. Greg mentally sighed. That all but confirmed one or the other of his wife's theories. If Solis was just nervous after that, it'd be a normal kid thing, but he looked ready to bolt. Greg had hoped that, for once, his wife would just be wrong, but that woman always seemed to know what was happening.
"They think you're a genius, which is probably true, but I also see you out here all the time doing this job or that job while going to school. You're going to burn yourself out."
"My uncle works hard, too," Solis gave him a smile, and for the first time, Greg saw just how… fake it looked. "It's just how the family is, sir."
Leaning back, Greg gave Solis an appraising gaze. The boy was growing. Just in high school and a few inches shy of six feet. "I'm going to tell you a lesson I wish I learned when I was younger. Being a man means taking care of your people. You're doing that, but no man does it alone."
"I'm not alone." Solis said, sounding a little indignant, and there it was in his voice too. He could hear the lie now. "There's my uncle."
"Can I meet your uncle?"
"Sure, just let me know when and I'll let you know next time he's in."
"And if I drop by randomly after a little while?"
Solis went silent.
"Look. Jenny and I just want to make sure you and your sister are safe. Maya is best friends with Ruth, and it'd break our hearts if anything happened to either of you. We don't need to know anything, except that you're safe and no one is hurting you or your sister. Can you look me in the eyes and tell me that?"
Solis did, and this time Greg didn't see the lie, if there was one.
"No. We're safe."
"Then I don't need to know more. Not about uncles, or strange behavior. Just know that we're here for you if you need anything, and our doors are always open whether that be for a night or a year."
The silence stretched out. Solis nodded softly to himself. He looked small, but eventually he turned to the deck boards. "I'll replace the two-inch nails on the underside with three-inch ones. They're old right now and will have to be replaced soon anyway."
Greg just nodded and patted his own knees. "Well. Best get to it." He didn't push back. A man had to have his pride after all.
---
Three months after that conversation, Solis and his sister appeared more regularly within the Thorne household and more in groups outside it. To Jenny's chagrin, it was, yet again, the talk of brunch.
"I have no idea what's changed. I've never seen those kids so alive. I didn't know they could smile like that, and Maya is letting the girls teach her how to put on makeup! The other week the whole girls' soccer team took turns trying to pretty her up."
"They're both in the play this year with my son. Well. Maya is doing backstage work, but Solis is acting in it."
Jenny had also confirmed to herself that, yeah, the uncle wasn't real. She hadn't told anyone. Not even Greg. She had installed a camera and pointed it at their house, then set it to fast-forward over two months of time. Not a single car entered or left.
She kept it to herself. No uncle was good. No uncle was better than sick, awful uncle. Those two siblings had a good thing going for them, and she wasn't about to start mucking about where she didn't belong. She just wished her friends would shut the hell up about them. The last thing anyone needed was a neighborhood scandal over nothing about anything.
"Dianne, I hear your ex is looking for sole custody now?" Jenny said.
---
Ruth leaned over, her chin resting on Maya's shoulder as she looked at her friend's poster. "That's one photo. It's of you and Solis from last month."
She could feel her best friend rolling her eyes. "The prompt is about 'Visual Representation of Identity' I have artwork about myself up there. That counts."
"It's a C-choice that's for sure." Ruth agreed, happy with her little play on words. "You need to at least do an ancestral anecdote. That one was on the rubric. I did one about my great aunt Clarrisa losing her teeth in her grandson's wedding cake. What are you gonna put?"
Her friend went quiet for a long while, staring off into space. Just as she was about to check that her friend was still alive, Maya spoke. "My mom used to make this bread. Every Tuesday. It was dense as anything and heavy as a rock, but it smelled like rosemary. We'd heat it in a pan and eat it with warm honey."
Maya never spoke about her mother or her father, so Ruth listened intently. "That's really sweet," she finally said after it was clear Maya wasn't going to continue. "Do you have a picture of her?"
"No," Maya said. "She didn't believe in pictures. Thought they stole your soul."
"Oh," Ruth replied lamely.
They worked in silence, and by the time they parted ways. Ruth didn't say anything about how, by the end of it, she didn't know anything more about her best friend's family than when they started.
"It's fine." She whispered to herself. "She can afford the C."
Age 16
Like that, a year passed. Calm and quiet, but things didn't stay that way forever.
It was a chill spring afternoon when Solis came to Greg's garage. Greg had been working on an old project car from the 1980s. The neighborhood kids came round from time to time, sometimes their parents did too, to talk about it or to lend a hand, so he wasn't too surprised when Solis appeared, even though it was late.
What surprised him was the thick manila envelope the boy held and the reluctant, nervous posture he wore. A rarity for the boy.
"Hey Solis! Whatcha' got there?"
"You know how you said I could come to you if I needed help? That you wanted to make sure my sister and I are safe?"
Greg's blood cooled, and his heart fell straight into his stomach. He sat up straighter. "Yes, and that offer still stands."
Before Greg could think anymore or even process what was happening, words started spewing from Solis's mouth.
"My uncle isn't real. I made him up. Bought a fake ID from overseas and got a construction worker to pretend to be him. I lied and told him my uncle forgot his ID while on a long haul job. Paid him for it, but he just thought he was helping me out. My sister is actually my half-sister. Same mother. We ran away from a compound out of the north east. A cult. They're called The Church of the Celestial Heir."
Greg frowned. He had heard that name before. "There were some articles on them when I was just out of college. It was a huge thing. The leader got a bunch of women pregnant to fulfill some made up prophecy about being… born under a solar eclipse."
Solar.
Solis.
Greg paled further, and the young man couldn't meet his gaze.
"That's 'Father'... my father. Biologically. He's my… dad, I mean."
Desperately, Greg wanted to ask why he didn't just go to the police, but he held his tongue. The boy looked about ready to bolt, so he remained calm and tried his best not to move too much.
"I'm sixteen," Solis began again. "One of the reasons I chose this state is because I can petition for legal emancipation if I can prove I'm self-sufficient. I don't have bank records, but I've kept track of every dollar I've earned through working, where I spent it, how I spent it. Owed taxes that I've saved and withheld, everything. I have excellent academic standing and Maya has been well taken care of for the last three years. She's well fed, socalized, intelligent and popular."
Solis hardly breathed, continuing in a torrent of words. "But that doesn't matter. It solves my problem, but the state will still take her before I can finish filing the paperwork. I need you to be a shield for me. Introduce me to a family lawyer and be a character witness, so I can become her legal guardian."
"Can I see those papers?" Greg asked, gentle as he could.
The boy basically flinched out of the garage and had taken several steps back. Greg really thought he was going to run, but he didn't. It took a moment, but hesitantly, the folder was handed over.
Everything was tracked. Everything was in order. For three years. Since the day he moved into the duplex down the street.
"You've been thinking about this since you moved here." Greg acknowledged.
"Before that," Solis shook his head. "I tried three other school districts before this one. This was always the plan."
"Why now?"
"Because Maya has started talking about college, about what she wants to do when she's older, and neither of us can do any of that if we don't exist on paper."
There was silence in the garage for a long moment as Greg continued idly flipping through the papers. Finally, he handed them back.
"You worked hard on this. You did good. I'll make some calls first thing tomorrow. I know a lawyer friend."
He thought the boy was going to break down sobbing right there, but he didn't. The boy stumbled and practically snatched the papers.
"Okay. Yeah. Yes. Should I come by in the morning?"
Greg nodded. "Yeah, I'll call in for work. My friend should be able to get you in."
---
"This is bad, Greg." Marcus Abbott paged through the written testimonies, numerous ledgers of under-the-table earnings, with an envelope full of 'withheld taxes.' Most disgusting of all were the pictures of healed lacerations in line with long-term, ritualistic abuse. "I don't think you even understand what you're asking me to do here. Solis and Maya don't exist anywhere except for in their school records. The second anything touches the system, and it's even a little bit out of place, they're going to be scooped up by CPS, and for the record, I think that's a good thing here. Between their medical records, their father being a known cult leader, and those lacerations on the boy's back, there's no way they'll send them back to the cult. You and the kids are being greedy here, Greg. Both would be in good hands in the state, and if the sister wants to reconnect once she's sixteen, that'll be her right."
"I know these kids, Marcus," Greg said, struggling to keep his voice level and even. "I've seen them. They'll fall apart without each other."
"So, they're co-dependent right now? That's what state care is designed to address."
"You know damn well design and reality are not the same."
"That is my legal and professional opinion, but if you and the boy want to go through with this, that's on you."
"Just tell me what needs to be done."
Marcus sighed and took off his glasses to rub his temples better. "I can't emancipate someone who doesn't exist, so first he has to exist, and without his father knowing. You can petition for temporary guardianship, and I can submit an Ex Parte protective order while I figure out a way not to notify their crazy dad. You will be their temporary legal guardian while all of this" -- the lawyer gestured vaguely at everything -- "is resolved. Then we'll have to establish legal identity, which will bring up a whole host of problems since these are two minors who have been living alone for four years now. Only then can Solis try to emancipate himself, and then and only then can he file for kinship guardianship. Which they'll never grant by the by, but they might grant Co-Guardianship."
"Thank you, Marcus, really, thank you. When you meet these kids, you'll understand why I think all of this is necessary."
"Greg, I hate you so much right now. I should be charging you for this, not doing it pro bono. Just so you're prepared, this is going to take at least a year to resolve, probably more. Because of the nature of this case, I can try to expedite hearings, but this is going to be a mess. CPS is going to get involved, and if you knew those kids were living alone all this time, you'll have hell to pay. So not talking as your lawyer, but as your friend, learn how to shut the hell up."
---
By the end of the week, Solis and Maya were swarmed by CPS, a court-appointed special advocate, and faced two separate hearings before a judge. Two medical examiners, a medical doctor, and a psychiatrist were brought in to ensure the kids' health. Through their investigations, they found that only Solis had lacerations on his back; otherwise, both were in good health.
The psychologist's report was far more in-depth.
Identifying information:
Case No. 2036-ADOP-9912
Subjects:
Subject 1, Solis, DOB: Unknown, suspected age 16
Subject 2, Maya, DOB: Unknown, suspected age 12.
Evaluator: Dr. Elen Mabry, Psy.D, Forensic Psychologist
Date of Initial Evaluation: October 23rd, 2036
Reason for Referral:
The subject was referred by the Department of Child Services to assess psychological stability, trauma-related sequelae, and clinical viability of sibling co-placement following high-control group (cult) extraction and caretaker neglect in the four years following.
Sources of Information:
Clinical Interview with each Subject (3 Sessions)
Collateral Interview with trusted adults (2), Greg and Jenny Thorne
Review of school records (2032-2036)
Review of medical records regarding scarring
Standardized Testing, MMPI-A, TSCC
Behavioral Observations:
Subject 1 - Solis remained cooperative but emotionally guarded throughout the evaluation. While polite, he demonstrated significant latency in his affective responses to direct inquiry, suggesting the subject is cognitively selecting an appropriate social response, and flat affect to secondary emotional stimuli.
Subject 2 - Maya demonstrates strategic compliance. She does not directly resist authority; instead, she seeks to manage the interviewer through proactive rapport-building. Maya utilizes a sophisticated vulnerability loop. She provides low-stakes disclosures (admitting to minor infractions or fears) to establish a false sense of transparency with the clinician, while also making voluntary strategic admissions of deception to elicit a sympathetic response. Maya presents in a hyper-normative manner, with emotional displays highly synchronized with the interviewer's expectations.
Clinical Impressions and Discussion:
Assessment: Solis and Maya present a unique combination of high cognitive counterdependency and hyper vigilance. Both siblings score in the upper decile of cognitive function and slant towards social engineering and "threat-scanning."
Recommendation: While, on first glance, both siblings appear well-adapted, further investigation reveals a level of strategic disclosure solely to avoid being separated. Any attempt to separate the siblings would likely result in extreme reactive behaviors. Immediate and permanent co-placement of the siblings is clinically mandatory.
Weekly Trauma-Focused Cognitive Behavioral Therapy is recommended.
High-risk flight, watch for the first 90 days of legal transition.
The special advocate went much better. She was an older woman, and since she didn't work for the state, Solis behaved much more naturally around her. They didn't have to fake anything; they kept their house tidy and well-stocked with the essentials. She dropped by the school a few times at random and interviewed Greg and Jenny at length -- finding that Greg went to the courts and lawyers as soon as Solis told him that his uncle wasn't real.
At the end of it, she submitted her report stating that the siblings were well-adjusted individuals and that Greg and Jenny would make a good temporary home for them during the legal proceedings. The siblings were temporarily moved into the Thorne household, and the paperwork for their government SSNs and Delayed Report of Live Birth was completed. For the first time, Solis and Maya were people identified in the legal system. They ate cake that night to celebrate.
Elsewhere, states away, that information pinged on a computer.
---
Solis woke up to the front door opening.
It was late at night. Maya was sleeping in her shared room with Ruth, and Mr. and Mrs. Thorne were asleep in their bed.
Adrenaline shot through his system, and any weariness left him completely, but he did not move fast. He took small, slow, and deliberate movements, making as little noise as possible -- replacing himself with a series of pillows.
He grabbed the hammer underneath his pillow and stepped behind the door. There, he procured the hunting knife he had left there and knelt, waiting for the doorknob to turn.
It did.
The door opened slowly. He saw a gloved hand.
A man stepped forward, slowly into the room.
He didn't recognize the silhouette.
The man held a needle and a rope.
Solis heard shuffling outside. There was another one.
He waited until the first man fully entered the room, kicked the door closed, and lunged.
---
Jenny woke up to the sound of crashing furniture and screaming. Greg was already up and scrambling through the house. She didn't know how, but somehow she overtook her husband. On the floor in their kitchen, a man was on his stomach, crawling towards the garage door. A streak of red dragged behind the man, and Jenny couldn't help but let out a shrill scream.
Then there was Solis, drenched in crimson. His steps fell heavy, and his left arm hung at a sickening, unnatural angle. The knuckles on his right hand were white, and in that hand he held a bloody hammer. Jenny could do nothing but watch as Solis straddled the fleeing man and brought the hammer down on his skull.
---
"It's a hell of a story, Greg. Truly, but there are two dead men in a kitchen, and at a certain point, that stopped being self-defense. Our forensic guys tell us one of them was crawling for the door when your little psychopath bashed his brains in. Once he could speak, all he could say was 'lawyer'; the same for his sister. They're the guiltiest sounding people I've ever seen come through the precinct, I swear."
"You're not investigating me Vance. You will let Jenny and I talk to him and Maya or I will have the courts swarming this fucking place. I am their legal representative."
"Soon," the detective hedged. "Things are hectic right now and he's still being questioned."
"He's asked for a lawyer. No more questions. Actually."
"Sure, sure, but I got a call from the DA's office. These kids are already involved in falsifying records, and the like. The prosecutors seem very interested in this case. So, no, you don't get to talk to them. No one does, apparently, until we get the okay from the big boys upstate. Hell, from the mutterings, the FBI might even get involved."
For as much as Greg hated Vance in that instant, time would prove the detective right. Solis was placed in a hospital while his arm healed, and then placed in a juvenile detention facility for his own and others' safety. Maya was sent to a child advocacy center.
It was six months until the dust settled, but when it finally did, it was clear that he and his wife would never see those kids again. After a lengthy investigation and much reluctance, the DA dropped all charges. The earlier psychological evaluation of Solis was the thing that saved him, as his lawyer argued that in his heightened state of panic, Solis could not properly identify a non-threat.
From there, things moved quickly. The members sent to kidnap Solis and Maya were unable to be identified at all. A reasonable argument was made that the adults were likely from the cult that the children were running from. Their records of existing were sealed, and they got all new paperwork, completely changing their identities. They'd be sent to another state with zero contact with their old life.
All that Greg and Jenny got was a short, supervised goodbye in a CPS office. They were to receive no more information going forward, just that Solis had a path to emancipation, and the siblings wouldn't be separated.
All that was left was a tearful goodbye.
It was only after Greg left the building that he reached into his pocket, and his fingertips brushed up against a piece of paper that hadn't been there before.
It read:
They told me it had to be a completely clean break. Standard for these resets, but I'm not a good person. I'm greedy and selfish, and I want things I know I can't have. So, please. I've written an email down. It's new, so they don't know about it. Write from time to time?
Greg held onto that paper for three weeks, debating what to do with it. It was a conversation with his wife that confirmed his decision.
"I keep replaying it in my head," Jenny said one night, cuddled up on the couch in their new apartment. They had moved shortly after the incident, not wanting those memories to constantly haunt them. "He was trying not to cry, but he kept telling me he didn't know how to make up for it."
"He doesn't have to make up for anything," Greg hissed out, more venom escaping than he thought possible.
"I know. I know, honey."
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell."
"I get it. I want to yell too... do you think they'll ever go to a college party? Grow up and have kids of their own? That they'll be able to live a normal life?"
"Yeah. They're strong kids, and their records are sealed tight. They'll change their names. This time, they can have the lives they wanted. They still got what they wanted. We just have to trust that. That father of theirs will never know where they are."
It was those last lines, his own words, that decided it. It was better if there was no trace at all.
He burned the slip of paper, leaving nothing but ash.