"Mercedes Lackey - Urban Fantasies" - читать интересную книгу автора (Lackey Mercedes)

What am I supposed to say? That some guy killed two people in front of me and shot my best
friend, and I created this weird light show to get rid of the bullet holes? No way.

“I've—I've had a bad night,” she said at last, choosing her words carefully. “I'm okay, but I'd like to go
home.”

The older woman nodded. “That's a problem, unfortunately. Detective Cable wanted me to lock you up
here for the night and maybe send you to Juvenile Hall in the morning, since it's a little impractical to take
you back to the foster home in Orange County in the middle of the night.”
“What?” Kayla sat upright in shock.

“I think I have another alternative,” Elizabet continued, “since neither a midnight trip to -Orange County
or a night at Juvenile Hall seems to be the appropriate answer.”

“Terrific,” Kayla said, and slumped back down in her chair. “So are you going to send me back to Mr.
and Mrs. Davis? I know it doesn't matter what I think, but I don't want to go.”

“Obviously, or you wouldn't have run away from them.” The black woman smiled. “Kayla, if you could
do anything, what would you do?”

“I—I don't understand,” she answered uncertainly.

“I'll rephrase this. Pretend for a minute that you don't have to go back to that foster home, or Juvie, or
anything like that. If you could choose where you wanted to live, what you wanted to do, what would
you choose?”

Who is this lady?Kayla wondered.She isn't like any cop or social worker I've ever met before. “I
don't know. I guess . . . if I could have anything, I'd want to live with my parents again. But that won't
ever happen, I know that.” At Elizabet's questioning look, she added, “They disappeared when I was
twelve years old. I was at school, Mom never showed up to take me home.” The memory of that
afternoon was still burned into her mind: how she'd waited and waited at the school, then walked home,
to find the police at her house. “Nobody knew how to find any of my relatives, so I ended up in a foster
home.” She thought about it for a few moments longer. “If I could do anything, I'd want to live with
people that understood me. Good people, not like Mr. Davis. People who like to talk about real things,
and treat people right, and . . . and read books. People who do more than sit around drinking beer and
watching TV.”

“You like to read?”

In spite of herself, Kayla blushed. “I love reading,” she said, looking down at her sneakers. “Sometimes
it's the only way to escape, get away from everything.”

“Have you thought of going to college?” Elizabet asked.

“Yeah, sure, but there's a snowball's chance of that, you know? You have to graduate high school
before they'll let you go to college.”

“Maybe I can help you with that.” The woman stood up, pulling on her blue jacket and picking up her
briefcase. “Time to go, child.”