Greetings from Witness Protection!: Chapters 1–5

Mid-October and it’s already thirty degrees outside, every bit of that cold happily taking up residence in our floor. Tossing an afghan around my shoulders for good measure, I sidle up to Emmy’s bed.

That’d be Ms. Fancypaws McKittenfluff, my sole remaining stuffed animal from a childhood menagerie.

“I guess she just got comfortable in there,” I muse.

Two and a half feet of well-loved and clumpy-haired stuffitude, Fancypaws is a few years removed from her debutante days.

Conspicuously jutting from the leather is a blocky plastic handle, as yellow-and-black as the business end of a hornet.

Halla has drawn trees coming from the ceiling, a baseball bat growing out of a pot, and some sort of viney monstrosity.

“Let’s change the subject, guys,” Mr. Jordanson suggests, and he tries to talk to Halla about stippling.

I have no idea what that means.
“A hundred pounds?” I venture.

“And this, which I’m guessing is the change from a cup of the cheap coffee at the bodega across the street, since it’s ninety-three cents with tax.”

Her watch squeezes her wrist so tightly you’d think she was using it as a tourniquet.

We are United States marshals, members of the oldest and most versatile federal law enforcement agency. We protect the courts, track down fugitives, and shield witnesses from retribution.

Diagnosed with an impulse-control disorder, specifically kleptomania, likely as a result of separation and abandonment issues.

“Times have changed, Nicki,” Janice says somberly.

And here it is, the final stage of wigging out. I’ve pretty much covered them all. Started with nervous, jumped to thiefy, moved to sarcastic, moseyed on into weeping, and now that beautiful numbness.

Janice shakes her head emphatically.

“Their safety depends on it. Anything out of the ordinary might draw attention and put them at risk. In fact, that’s your number one priority—making sure everything stays normal. Nothing to draw notoriety, or shine any sort of spotlight on the family. Remember you said you’ve never been caught stealing? It’s your ability to lay low, to assimilate into new families and schools quickly, that makes you ideal for this most important task. Other foster kids—”

“Their safety depends on it. Anything out of the ordinary might draw attention and put them at risk. In fact, that’s your number one priority—making sure everything stays normal. Nothing to draw notoriety, or shine any sort of spotlight on the family. Remember you said you’ve never been caught stealing? It’s your ability to lay low, to assimilate into new families and schools quickly, that makes you ideal for this most important task. Other foster kids—”

He developed a weird pathological fear of telephones and taxis?

Janice fights me on a bunch of other stuff—trinkets and tokens, mostly—and wins.

If I couldn’t catch him while astride a wicked-cool mantis steed, how was I ever going to do it with hundreds of stupid letters and wishful thinking?

I snap out of my reverie when Eddie suddenly claps his hands.

“And besides, I’d like to avoid names that don’t bode well for kids my age. Anne’s one. So is Joan. Or Juliet. Did you know she was only thirteen when she borrowed Romeo’s happy dagger? I need a name that gives me a fighting chance to make it to high school someday.”

I can still end my signature with the flourish through the double t’s, and I’ve never known a Charlotte before, so I don’t have any other kid’s face in my head when I think about it.

“Yeah,” A.J. says, “Project Family. Do you know what it stands for?”
I shake my head. “Nothing, apparently. Though I think it should. Been working on it, too. Federal Agents Masquerading In Life...Yogurt?”

She’s also been in and out of foster homes, and we get to swap descriptions of the cruddiest bedrooms we’ve had, compare our shortest stints with a family, and see which one of us has had the weirdest foster experience overall (she wins; I can’t beat staying with a couple who collected taxidermied housecats).

A short, matronly lady comes in after a while, and twelve swiveling kids all come to an abrupt stop.

A few kids raise their hands, but she subtly shakes her head, and the hands go down.

“In other words, you personally witnessed key members of the Cercatore family engaged in protection racketeering, extorting money and favors in exchange for protection against the Cercatores’ other criminal activities.”

“Yes. Some of the contracts stipulated that the syndicate would agree not to sell or make drugs, launder money, or house their enforcers in a two-block radius of those who paid the monthly bribes.”

“Yes. Some of the contracts stipulated that the syndicate would agree not to sell or make drugs, launder money, or house their enforcers in a two-block radius of those who paid the monthly bribes.”

“How much money did the Cercatore family make from these activities?”
“Upwards of seventeen million dollars a year from the racketeering alone.”

It’s heavy stuff—some of the legal jargon I don’t understand, but this much is clear: When Eddie said that Elena was a brave woman, he wasn’t kidding.

There, standing in the doorway and shooting me a nearly identical look of disdain, is Janice. I shake the half cringe, half sneer off my face and find my smile as quickly as possible.

“Charlotte, it is precisely that flippant attitude that will endanger this entire operation. Focus!” she says, slapping the table for emphasis.

“Basically, yes. We have done considerable research on families in the Durham area in general, and on girls your age in particular. Via the data we procured, we have distilled a profile that you will adhere to as closely as possible.”

“This is serious, Charlotte. B-minuses will ensure that you do not garner attention for your academics, whether your grades are too high or too low.”

“I get a thousand dollars?”
“Your family does, though it’s earmarked for you. Each family member has a similar budget.”

“They’re cool! Haven’t you ever seen any of the videos on YouTube?”
Her dour look leads me to believe she hasn’t.

As far as faces go, mine can’t get any more serious than this. Granted, it might have helped to avoid the Famously Fuchsia glitter lip gloss this morning, but other than that, I’m gravitas personified.

I lean back, both hands in my hair as I look out over the tableful of strewn papers.