Mr. Alfred gave her tea and cookies for while she waited. They were very good cookies. Ellie ate four of them.
Then Mr. Bruce Wayne appeared. He sat down on the couch across from her.
"Hello," he said. "Alfred tells me your name is Ellie?"
"Yes!" she said. She set the remaining half of Cookie #5 down.
"Alright," he said. "Can you tell me your last name?"
"Everyone has a last name."
"I understand if you aren't comfortable using it, but I really do need to know your full name."
Ellie frowned. Should she make one up? Use Fenton, or Masters? Which one made more sense?
"Um," she said. "Usually social workers right down Ellie Doe?"
"...I see," he said, sounding like he very much did not see. "Can you tell me what happened to your parents, Ellie?"
"I was left at a fire station as a baby."
She had stolen that story wholesale from another kid at her third foster home. It was a good story. People never expected her to know anything about her parents when she said that.
"I heard you'd adopt anyone," she said bluntly. "I wanna be next."
"Who's your social worker?"
She brightened. "Does that mean you'll do it?"
"No-- I mean. We'll... I am calling your social worker because you are a child and no one knows where you are."
"Yes, and I'm a mandated reporter," he said. "I'll be right back."
He left the room. Ellie narrowed her eyes after him. Bruce Wayne didn't seem like the stories made him sound. He seemed... smarter. More hesitant. Cautious, that was the word.
She hadn't expected him to say no.
He didn't, she reminded herself. Not yet, anyway. He said to wait. While her entire future was decided by a phone call with her social worker.
romaincrisis
dededos
blakekathryn
germansingergirl
turnnoffyourmind
andulkaphoto
