Sara Lost and Found (9 page)

I shake my head and swallow hard. What if she tells Mrs. Craig about the letter? What if they go after Mama? Scared and unsure of what to do, I just sit. “We can talk more later if you like,” Mrs. MacMillan says, standing up slowly. “For now, though, try to get a good night's sleep.” She kisses the top of my head.

When she leaves, I reach to hide the envelope underneath the bedsheet. Mama's photo falls to the floor. I pick it up, frowning. I stare at the face in the photo. Mama smiles at me like nothing has happened. I wipe hot tears away so I can keep seeing her face.

“Where are you?” I whisper.

I stick the envelope with the letter and photo under the bottom sheet. No one will think to look there. I'll share the picture with Anna later, after everyone has gone to sleep.

As I turn to leave, I spot Pablo's rainmaker where Anna has left it on the dresser. I feel it again. The tug. The feeling that makes me steal things. The noise from the rainmaker calms her. She needs it. That's what I tell myself as I sneak over, carefully pick it up so it won't make any noise, and stuff it under the bottom sheet with Mama's picture and letter.

I grab a blanket from Anna's bed and cover her so she won't get cold.

THE NEXT MORNING, ANNA AND
I head downstairs. Pablo and Dr. Dan have already left for somewhere.

But Mrs. MacMillan is sitting in the kitchen, drinking coffee and thumbing through some ads. “Good morning, good morning!” she greets, jumping to her feet. “There are lots of sales going on today. What do you say we go and get you girls some new clothes?”

“Really? New clothes?” I grin at Anna. Most of the clothes I wear are ones that were once hers, and they don't always fit so good.

“You bet! And I know just the store to try first.” She pours us some cereal and milk and lets us look at all the pictures in the ads.

On the way to the store, Anna stares out the window saying nothing. I wiggle in my seat, anxious to get there and see what they have.

The saleslady at the store says she knows just what we want, which is lucky, because Anna and I don't know where to begin. There are so many dresses and pants and shorts and T-shirts and shoes, rows and rows and rows of them all silently shouting,
Pick me! Pick me!
Just like me and Anna at the Silvermans', when Ben could only take one of us to the library

“Don't worry about how much anything costs,” Mrs. MacMillan says, breaking into my thoughts. I am trying to read a price tag. I'm better with numbers than with words. Anna is better with words, which is funny, since she hardly talks.

“This is my treat,” she adds, holding up a cotton dress. “This will look so good on you!”

We take clothes off, put clothes on, take them off, and put them on, till my ears feel like they're going to fall off from all that pulling.

Finally, we decide on two matching sundresses—one for me and one for Anna. Mrs. MacMillan also buys us two pairs of shorts with shirts to match, and sandals. My bag alone bulges as round as Big Ed's belly back at the bakery by our real house.

We get in line at the checkout when a lady walks in. I stare, unable to move or speak. It's Mama. I look over at Anna to see if she sees her too, but Anna's too busy thumbing through magazines to notice.

I can't let Mama get away, and race after her.

“I knew you'd come back!” I shout, startling her, judging by how she jolts to a stop and turns, right as I throw my arms around her. “Nobody believed me, but I told them you would come back.” She feels different, or maybe I just grew taller in the time she's been gone.

“Honey—” Mrs. MacMillan rushes up and pulls gently at my arm that's still wrapped tightly around Mama.

“I'm so sorry,” Mrs. MacMillan tells the lady. “She lost her mother recently—”

“Oh, you poor thing,” the woman says, stroking my head.

I jerk back.
That's not Mama's voice.

I look up.
Mama doesn't have brown eyes.

“Come back in line, Sara. It was an honest mistake.” She tells the stranger sorry again and guides me back to the line. I want to melt. Disappear. Everyone in line is looking at me, whispering to each other.

“Poor thing.”

“How sad.”

“That woman must have been freaked out, having some strange kid grabbing her.”

I drop my head so I don't have to see them. I can still hear them, but something else is screaming in my head
: It was Mama. It was. It was her!
Then another screaming thought tromps all over that one:
What were you thinking? Don't you even know your own mother?

I try to push that thought away because it makes tears crop up from nowhere, stinging my eyes. I can't wait to get out of the store. I will never come to this stupid store ever, ever again.

When we reach the car, I scramble in the back while Mrs. MacMillan and Anna put the packages in the trunk. When Mrs. MacMillan gets in, she cranks her head around and looks at me. “Are you okay?”

I look out the window and don't say anything.

“I've had that happen before. Thought someone was somebody else. Our minds can play tricks on us.”

I don't want to think about it anymore, and keep staring out the window. She turns back, starts the car, and finally gets us away from there.

The drive back to the MacMillans' is silent, except for the
pop, pop, pop
as Anna yanks Abby apart.

When we pull into the driveway, Mrs. MacMillan grins. “Oh, good. The boys are back.” She turns to look over the seat and says, “So long as you don't stray too far, you can take a look around the neighborhood and maybe meet some of the other kids on the block.

“They're usually at the park at the end of the street,” she adds. “Dan and I will come and get you in about fifteen minutes.”

A bit of space sounds great. I quickly pop Anna's doll back together and hand it to her. She says, “Bathroom,” and I nod. I'll wait.

When she comes back out, she sees Sneaker under a bush and scoops her up, carrying the cat in one hand, Abby in the other.

There are only a few kids in the park when we get there. Anna holds back and sticks close to a tree. Sneaker, I can tell, wants to get down.

“Run away?”

I look back at her. “You mean Sneaker? I don't think so. She just wants to explore with us.”

“I'll wait here.” Anna sits down and starts pulling Abby apart. New settings are hard for her to get used to.

The kids see us and run over. One boy, who looks to be about nine, scoops Sneaker up and rubs his cheek against her coat.

“My cat!” Anna yells. It's the first time I've seen her yell at someone she doesn't know. I grin. Maybe she can stand up for herself after all.

“I'm just petting him,” the boy says, eyeing Abby. “Hey, what's with the busted doll?”

I look at the scattered pieces of Abby on the grass and back at the boy. “We're playing a game,” I tell him, covering up for Anna's strange habit.

“What's the game? Pick up limbs?” The boy laughs, making the other kids laugh too. He bends down and picks up an arm piece and turns to his friends. “Need a hand, anyone?”

Again they all laugh.

“Give back!” Anna jumps to her feet and hooks an arm around the boy's neck, pulling him back against her and squeezing until his face looks puffy and red. His breathing sounds pinched and eerie.

“Anna!” I run over and try to pull her arm off. “Anna, let go! You're choking him! Let go, Anna! Let go!”

The boy grows limp, and when Anna finally releases him, he falls to the ground. He doesn't move.

“You killed him,” his friends shout.

“What's going on here?”

I whirl around. When I see Dr. Dan, I almost start to cry. “Anna got upset. This boy made fun of her doll, and she choked him. Now he's not breathing.”

Dr. Dan drops down beside the limp boy, sits him up, and thumps him on the back with a cupped hand. Like magic, the kid opens his eyes, coughs a few times, and looks around like he's wondering where he is. Anna just stares blankly, as if she doesn't know what all the fuss is about.

Dr. Dan ruffles the boy's hair. “He's going to be all right,” he says, checking the boy's eyes. I can tell he's mad at Anna, but he doesn't say anything to her. Maybe he doesn't want to get bitten again, because all he says is, “Can you kids show me where he lives? Anna and Sara, why don't you go home with Barbara?”

We watch them walk away, Dr. Dan carrying the boy, the others clustered around him. I spin around and glare at Anna.

“You could have killed him. What were you thinking?”

She bends over and starts picking up doll parts. Mrs. MacMillan squats down to help.

“Would you want to be choked?” Why can't she just be like a normal sister and answer a question?

“Sara—I think Anna's had enough stress for one day.”

I ignore Mrs. MacMillan, keeping my glare glued to Anna. “Do you want people to hate us? Is that why you're so mean? Biting. Spitting. And now, almost choking a kid? Keep it up, Anna, and nobody will want us around.
Nobody
.”

“Sara—please.” Mrs. MacMillan stands up, holding arms, legs, a head, and a body. “Please, sweetheart, give Anna some thinking room.”

Anna rises to her feet and looks at me with a look so blank that a chill chases up my arm. Then she does something she's never done before. She walks away.

“Go ahead. Run away, Anna. Be like Mama. I don't care. You hear me? I don't care.” Tears burn my eyes.

Mrs. MacMillan rushes ahead to catch up with Anna, calling for me to follow, but I stay rooted to my spot, stewing in anger. Why can't she just be normal?

Anna's head hangs low. Mrs. MacMillan must have asked if she could put an arm around her, because Anna nods and Mrs. MacMillan wraps an arm around Anna's shoulder.

I start to head after them, when I hear footsteps and turn around to see Dr. Dan coming up behind me. He falls into pace. “The boy's going to be fine, Sara.” We walk a while, listening to the crunching of our feet on the ground. We pass Anna and Mrs. MacMillan. “Tough day, huh?”

“You don't know the half of it.” I lower my voice, looking over my shoulder at my sister. “Sometimes I wish she would just go away.” I feel his hand settle lightly on my shoulder. I look up, expecting to see Daddy's “I'm here, don't worry” face and look away quickly when I see Dr. Dan's instead. My mind tricks me again, making me forget Daddy's gone. I stare at the ground and pretend that it's Daddy beside me trying to make me feel better, and not someone trying to be Daddy.

“Every now and again we all have feelings like that,” he says in a voice so different from Daddy's that it becomes hard to pretend anymore.

“Who do you want to go away?” I wonder if he'll say, “You and Anna,” but he doesn't.

“With me, it's not about who and more about what I want to go away. And what I want to go away is disease.”

This time I don't look at him. Everyone wants different things. I stare at the grass as we cross the yard, glancing back at my footprints, softly outlined. They'll be gone before we reach the house.

When the front door opens, I hear the phone ringing. It turns out that Mrs. Craig has good news and bad. The bad news is that they still don't have a home for us. The good news is that we don't have to go back to the Cottages. The Silvermans are going to take us back until we can be placed with a more permanent family.

While Mrs. MacMillan talks with Mrs. Craig, Anna and I help set the table. I put the napkins at each place. The one extra I stick in my pocket in case Anna and I get hungry later.

Dr. Dan then gathers us around the dinner table and talks about the family's upcoming trip to South America. While he talks, he serves each of us a plate of tamales, corn, salad, chips, and salsa.

I'm still mad at Anna, so I don't look at her or pass her a plate.

“I've been with this particular team for six years,” Dr. Dan says. “I was shocked to hear Dr. Bentley got sick and they needed me to come so soon. But there are so many children who need help right away.”

“Podemos ayudar,”
Pablo says.

I stare at him.

“That was Spanish for ‘We can help,' ” he explains. “Spanish is my native tongue.”

Native tongue.
The words sound strange next to each other. “I don't speak anything but English. Guess nobody would understand me if I went to Chile.”

“Oh, I don't know about that.” Dr. Dan smiles. “You'd be surprised at what people can understand. It doesn't always take words to say something. The look on your face, the sound of your voice—those are the things that matter. A simple smile can go a long way.” He pushes his dinner plate back and pats his stomach. “Well, I don't know about you guys, but I'm full.”