What you feel here is how it happened there. The grown son was in the garage tinkering with a car. He pretended not to notice me. The father was at the door to let me inside. He was not smiling. It was hot and a fan stood in the corner whirring. The child sat on the floor beneath the fan and seemed to be enjoying the breeze. We sat down. He offered me water. Or a Coke? He asked. I gave him the introductory information about how I was a child advocate appointed by the court and he nodded. We both knew he knew why I was there. The child came closer to listen. She had a soft plastic toy in her hand, something too young for her. I asked to see where she sleeps. There were boys’ voices I could hear in the back of the house. He gestured with his entire arm toward the side of the house and remained seated. I took the little girl’s hand and she led the way. The boys were shouting louder now, in a way that let me know they knew I was there. One tossed a frisbee from the top bunk of a bed through the doorway and into the hall. It almost hit me. The taller one jumped down and seemed to hiss, and the shorter one hid behind the door. Then the showing off ruckus began again and for a moment I was enraptured by their capture of my attention. Then the girl tugged on my hand, and I peeked in the boys’ room which was clean, orderly even, as boys continued shouting, playful but aggressive too, only pretending I was not there. I felt afraid to enter their room and instead followed the tugging child to a small room across the hall. It had a little bed, a doll, a bear. The boys’ noise increased and it was hard to hear the girl. She was trying to say something but was whispering. I leaned closer and she looked away. “Take me with you”, she pleaded with her little voice. “Take me home.”