He groans loudly. "'Shut up' isn't even a swearword. And Miranda doesn't need me to set a good example, she's great the way she is. ...Would it get you in trouble with Social Services if I pay her to do my homework? I don't know if that counts as child labor or not." 

Evelyn catches Miranda's eye in the rearview mirror and mouths 'sorry!' to her, then glares at Jeremy. "It would get you grounded, is what it would do. - and can you please be quiet, we're about to hit the bad traffic." 

It's kind of convenient that a third party has banned her from selling Jeremy homework services, because her sense of honor says that anyone paying anyone else to do their homework is Bad And Wrong but also she wants to exchange her labor for fiat currency. Maybe she can sell him academically honest tutoring. Is that condescending to offer while being under four feet tall with a voice like a cartoon character? Even if he wouldn't be offended, she'd quite like to have a relationship of approximate equals and tutoring might mess with it. Fortunately she has the excuse of the bad traffic to avoid saying anything for now and bring it up later when she's had more time to think.

The traffic is really quite bad and they don't reach Jeremy's high school until almost 8:50. Evelyn pulls over and drops him off at the curb, and he calls out a "seeya later!" to Miranda and then scrambles out of the car and runs for main doors, leaving his car door wide open. Evelyn rolls her eyes, tries to reach the handle from the drivers' seat, fails, and then sighs and unbelts herself and goes around to shut it. "I really don't know what to do with that boy sometimes. Come on, let's get back. Hopefully the social worker won't make us her first visit of the day." 

They make it back to the house by 9:05, and there's a blinking voicemail notification on Evelyn's landline phone. She tells Miranda to go sit in the living room and find a book or play with some toys (she's distracted and it does not occur to her at all that Miranda might find this objectionable), and she picks up the phone and listens to the voicemail. (Not on speakerphone, unless it's something private, or bad news about Miranda's parents that she would want to break to her gently.) 

It's not news about her parents, but Evelyn is smiling when she joins Miranda in the living room. "Good news! You've got a social worker assigned and she'll be visiting us in about an hour. Though knowing her, 'about an hour' could mean anytime from 10 to noon, but we should still be able to make it out shopping before it gets busy. Anyway, her name is Barb Evans and I've worked with her before. She's a bit of a character, but I like her. I hope you'll get along with her too." 

The phrasing is a bit rude but going and finding a book is not at all objectionable and she hardly has a leg to stand on about receiving a reasonable speech-act in a kind of rude way; she has it cached as a fact that she's the sort of person who does that. She will be quietly annoyed for a few seconds and then distracted by book-selecting.

"I look forward to meeting her." This is the totally normal and ethically uncomplicated flavor of bald-faced lie. "How often do social workers normally interact with foster kids? Should I be expecting to see her regularly? What about after they find my parents?" She just barely remembers to add that last question onto the end.

That's a very understandable question. "Well, it depends a lot on the social worker, and on how things are going overall. They're required to visit and talk to you - including in private, without me, so you can say anything you might not be comfortable saying to me - at minimum every six weeks, but some social workers are more hands-on than that. It varies whether it's scheduled in advance or not, and whether it's a quick visit or one where they stay for a couple hours. Barb's one of the social workers who tends to swing by whenever she's in the neighborhood." Which can be very annoying when she forgets to call in advance and Evelyn is in the shower or something. "This is the first visit, so it'll be longer - or it normally would be, but most of the time Social Services has more background on a family to fill me in on. Barb will ask you some questions, hopefully not too many questions you've already answered for multiple people, and we'll fill out the legal paperwork. Does that all make sense?" 

"That all makes sense, thanks." She starts contemplating how much she wants to consider herself bound by legal documents signed under various levels of duress and then remembers that she's considered legally incompetent to sign contracts. Which makes her want to go find a contract and sign it and consider herself bound by it out of spite. LMAO, brain, have better spiteful impulses than that.

If that's all for this conversation she can go back to distracting herself with the contents of Evelyn's bookshelf until Barb gets here.

Barb arrives at 10:55 am. (Evelyn, who thinks that children shouldn't spend all of their time on the computer even if they're using it for educational purposes, has been encouraging Miranda to read a book.) 

Whatever Miranda's stereotype of a social worker is, Barb almost certainly isn't it. She's in her fifties, overweight, with frizzy black hair barely restrained by a headband. She's wearing stretchy floral-pattern leggings and a blouse with cap sleeves that stretches tightly over her stomach, and hauling a handbag that looks big enough that Miranda could ride in it. When Evelyn answers the doorbell and lets her in, she immediately pushes past her to head straight for the kitchen; she's out of breath and looks very overheated, her feet and ankles noticeably swollen. 

"A cold drink, please, I'm dying here." Barb has a deep voice, and very little in the way of volume modulation. She plops herself down on one of Evelyn's kitchen chairs, which creaks, and sets her huge handbag on the table, then bends over, her blouse riding up on her back, and takes off her kitten heels, which are clearly pinching her feet. 

"Where is she?" Barb calls to Evelyn, having walked right past the living room without, apparently, seeing Miranda there. "Send her over on, please." She straightens up with a groan and starts digging in the handbag. "Gawd. What a day." She seems to be talking to herself, though her voice is still quite loud. "Come on, where did I put you...?" 

Miranda with her head in a book only arguably exists so that's quite valid of Barb actually. Eventually the unfamiliar voice causes her to return to her body and thence to the kitchen. 

"Hello Barb, I'm Miranda. It's good to meet you," she says in a job-interview voice. Oh, possibly she wants to be called Ms. Evans? Well, if she does she'll ask. (Miranda didn't have language parsing online yet when the request for a drink happened so it doesn't occur to her to go get one.)

That's okay, it's definitely not Miranda's job to wait on guests. Evelyn is pouring her a glass of apple juice from the fridge, and carries it over a moment later. 

"Miranda is settling in well," she says, in a voice that isn't not her own job-interview voice. "She's adapting well to our household routine and rules. She's polite - and very articulate, as you can see - and she's lovely to have around." 

"Honeymoon period," Barb says dryly, and then blinks at Miranda and opens her eyes very wide, as though in exaggerated surprise that Miranda is sitting right there as requested. "But don't you go getting any ideas." 

She turns back to Evelyn. "Bad news on the parents. Well, no news, but this isn't a case where no news is good news, is it? At this point, I'm afraid Social Services will apply for a care order even if they do turn up full of regret. They'll be needing to appeal to the court to get her back." She shakes her head. "It's not right."  

Miranda is right there, Evelyn doesn't say. Pointing things like that out to Barb always seems to bounce right off. 

Barb sighs, and turns back to Miranda. "So. Are you happy here?" 

She's been here for one day. Evelyn doesn't say this either. Barb is just direct like that, and - well, to her credit, it goes over better than Evelyn would expect. Most of the time. Barb definitely has more complaints on her record than most social workers. 

"Yes, Evelyn's been lovely."

"That's what they all say. Well. Except the naughty teenagers who don't want to be told when to do their homework."

Barb is still digging around in her handbag, and finally pulls out a manila folder. She flips it open and sifts through papers, fumbling it slightly with her very long false nails. "Sorry, hon, this is the boring part. Blah, blah, blah.... No allergies or dietary restrictions, right?" 

Evelyn clears her throat. "Not on the medical side, but actually, she's a vegan. I'm planning to pick up some recipes." 

"Dear god!" Barb does the exaggerated-widened-eyes expression again, and then leans in conspiratorially toward Miranda, though without actually lowering her voice. "If you're not planning to be snooty about it, I'm sure we can still get along fine." 

Barb. Has she ever, once, in her entire life, thought about how something was going to sound before she said it Evelyn is diplomatically silent. 

Barb scribbles something down on her paper. "She's in good health, right? No special needs?" 

Evelyn winces, and then clears her throat. "Not in the - usual sense - but actually, that's one of the things I wanted to speak with you about. Miranda is very far ahead of her grade level. She was homeschooled, mostly self-directed learning, but it's obvious she's a very self-motivated learner," glance at Miranda, "and I know she legally needs to be in school, I'm not set up to continue with the homeschooling, but I think she has some requests and we should do our best to accommodate that."

She turns to Miranda. "Can you tell Barb a little bit about your learning, and where you're at on reading and math and things?" 

She doesn't know if it's strategic to be honest here but it probably is and also not being honest would hurt.

"I'm solid on Algebra and shaky on trig and calculus. I can understand, and discuss, most English texts that aren't in specialized fields. My composition is pretty good but I won't be getting a novel published any time soon. I have enough understanding of civics to be an informed voter and read the news and whatnot but my coverage of world history is rather patchy and unsystematic. My understanding of various fields of science is pretty good but I'm not sure how to quantify it; if you pick a scientific topic I can summarize my knowledge of it and tell you whether it's one of my stronger or weaker ones. My understanding of the more procedural, less list-of-facts side of science is solid; I can design an experiment and do at least some basic data analysis and interpretation of the results. Mostly limited by my stats knowledge there. I have some experience with python and C++."

“Gawd,” Barb says, heartfelt. “You’re going to end up in the history books, aren’t you.” She rolls her head back on her neck, eyelids half-lowered, and whuffs out a gust of air between pursed lips, as though abruptly exhausted by the weight of Miranda’s academic achievement.

“We’ll have to get her tested,” she adds, presumably to Evelyn. “What’s the world coming to?” This seems to be said to no one in particular. “An actual genius, in care. The parents don’t deserve her, if they couldn’t tell what a special thing they had.”

Does Barb HAVE to say that when Miranda is, still, RIGHT THERE.

Miranda is actually kind of busy freaking out about the prospect of convincing everyone her intelligence and work ethic are on a level she can't actually keep up without further time travel and then everyone will be disappointed. Intellectually she knows this is not the end of the world. She doesn't owe anyone ending up in the history books. But consider: aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa.

Also she's not a shiny object to be deserved and her real parents were probably great, but the part of her brain that's supposed to be vetting all her sentences for consistency and non-suspiciousness is returning 500s, so she just sort of stares unhappily into the middle distance.