Sara Lost and Found (14 page)

“She has to earn your visit, Sara. When she has achieved behavioral goals set for her at the center, they'll allow her to have visitors, but her behavior has to improve before they'll let you see her again.”

Achieved behavioral goals? Allowed to have visitors?
What is she talking about? By the time we turn the corner and the center disappears, I figure it out. The trap they set has snapped. Anna is caught, and it's all my fault.

“I'll talk with the court, I promise, Sara. I give you my word. You have to trust me on this.”

“Give me your word?
Trust you?”

“You want what's best for your sister, don't you?”

“You lied to us!” I shout, and I cry and cry until no more tears will come. Why am I blaming Mrs. Craig? Wasn't I the one who wished Anna would go away? Of all the trillion and one wishes I made, why is this the one that came true?

Looking down, I spot the missing arm from Anna's doll on the floor of the car. I pick it up and slip it into the side pocket of my duffel bag. Somehow, some way, I will get it to her. My foot hits against something stiff packed inside the duffel bag. I open it. Ben and Rachel had put a photo of me and Anna and them in a frame. I hug it, rocking back and forth.

I'm sorry, Anna. I'm so, so sorry.

Mrs. Craig pulls over to the curb and stops the car. She twists around and looks at me. I'm waiting for her to scold me about telling Anna to run, but she doesn't even mention it.

“Sara, I feel terrible. I didn't want you to have to see that. I have so many kids I am trying to place that sometimes I have to do as much as I can in one trip, but I never meant for you to go through that. Anna was going to have to go to Maple View no matter what. She bites people, Sara. She needs to learn how to deal with her anger and pain in a different way.

“You, on the other hand, need a family. Parents. People who will love you and take good care of you.”

Her voice is a distant hum. She sighs and pulls away from the curb. Trees whip past, each one marking a distance that is farther and farther away from my sister and Daddy, and from the hope of ever seeing either of them again.

I touch the lucky penny. There's no luck in it. Maybe I should just throw it out the window. I raise my arm, but something makes my hand stay closed tightly around it.

The drive to my new foster home feels like it takes forever. I want to throw up, but I fight the feeling off.

The car finally slows. I focus on the buildings around us, trying not to think about how I let Daddy down, first by getting us caught, and now by letting them take Anna away. I should have been paying more attention. Hadn't I promised Mama I would watch her?
It won't happen again, I promise, Mama. I'll get her back. You'll see. You can trust me, Mama. I give you my word.
But in my head, Anna is screaming,
Words get broken!
And she's right.

When Mrs. Craig pulls up to a familiar intersection, I frown. My heart beats faster as she drives through the MacMillans' old neighborhood. I frown even harder when she turns down the street where they'd lived.

“Are the MacMillans still here?” I ask, pressing my face close to the window to search for Sneaker.

“No, they're gone,” she answers, pulling into a driveway two doors down from where the MacMillans lived. “Their house is being rented now,” she adds.

They should have named the street Foster Kid Row.

“THERE'S OFTEN A SOMEWHAT AWKWARD
period of adjustment,” Mrs. Craig explains to Edith Chandler, my new foster mom, as Dan Chandler, my new foster dad, unloads my bag. “Especially with the older ones. They know so much more about what's happening to them.”

We stand like planted trees in the front yard. I keep my distance, but I can still hear them.

“Did you—” Mrs. Chandler glances at me and back at Mrs. Craig.

“Yes,” Mrs. Craig answers, handing her the flowers. She glances over her shoulder at me and lowers her voice. “She's quite upset.”

Quite upset?
I didn't get to say good-bye or see inside the residential center. Does Anna have her own room? Are there other kids in the room with her? What if she wets the bed? Who will hide her sheets?

Questions pile up in my head until I feel like breaking something. I bet it's how Anna feels every time she pulls Abby apart.

I watch Mrs. Craig get into her car, and rest my head against a tree. It feels good to have something to lean against. To me, Daddy is like a tree. Strong. Tall. But in truth, Ben is the real tree.

Daddy is more like a bird, singing his songs, flitting from one place to the next—needing the tree more than the tree needs him. Not that being a bird is a bad thing. It's just harder for birds to stick around.

Why can't people be more like trees?

I glance at the Chandlers' house. It has oatmeal-colored walls with same-colored bricks all around the front. Big windows. I like windows. And it has a big porch all around the front, lined with flowers. Lots of flowers.

Not bad.

The For Rent sign on the MacMillans' house has been taken down. I scan the trees and bushes for a sign of Sneaker. I see a cat sitting under a hedge, but it's not Sneaker.

“Did you know the MacMillans?” I ask, walking over to Mrs. Chandler.

She grins. “Sure, we knew the MacMillans. Not real well. They moved out a couple of days ago, the day before a new family moved in. From what I understand, the new family is leasing the place until the sale is final. They have a girl who looks to be about your age. Maybe you can run down and meet her tomorrow.”

I breathe a sigh of relief, secretly glad the MacMillans have moved. After he stole all my stuff, the last person I want to see is Pablo.

“Kev, come meet Sara,” Mrs. Chandler calls. A boy runs toward us.

I eye the little runt warily, though I have to admit he's kind of cute.

Kevin looks at me wide-eyed. “Are you going to be my sister? My friend Joey says you're not a real sister. Are you?” His eyes are blue, like mine. He seems big for a six-year-old, but his spiked, sun-bleached hair standing up on end might be why.

“Do I look real?” I ask.

Kevin grins and punches me to test how real I am.

“Ow!”

“No punching, Kevin,” Mrs. Chandler calls out.

But Kevin seems happy with the results of his test and dances around me. “Wanna see your room?” He stretches out his hand. When I take it, it feels small and sticky and not one bit like Anna's.

“Hang on a sec.” I turn to Mr. Chandler. “Do you have the number for the place Anna's in? When can I call my sister?”

“Uh—” Mr. Chandler glances uncomfortably at Mrs. Craig heading for the car and then walks past us, carrying my bag. Mrs. Chandler clears her throat, looking to Mrs. Craig for help.

“Not just yet, Sara,” Mrs. Craig says, getting into her car.

“Remember, we talked about that. She needs time. . . .” Her voice fades as she closes her door, gives me one last look, and then waves.

I don't wave back. When her car disappears around the corner, I turn to Kevin. “Is that your cat?” I point to where the cat had been.

Kevin looks where I'm pointing and shakes his head. “I can't have one. They make Mom sneeze. Those are strays.”

Strays? My heart leaps when a couple of kittens peer out from under a bush next door. A quick scan tells me the bad news. None of them is Sneaker.

“Come on in, Sara. Let's get you settled,” Mrs. Chandler calls from the porch.

The day is a blur of activity and emotion. Kevin doesn't want to leave me alone, which, in some ways, is annoying. He's always underfoot, and I get a little mad at him for it. But in other ways, he takes my thoughts off Anna, and how scared she must be, and how empty and lost I feel without her.

Kevin has so many things to show me. The dragon costume he's planning to wear for Halloween. Do I want to see it on? Books, books, and more books I can't read. Do I want to read them to him? A race-car set. Do I want to race him? A tool kit. Do I want to build a robot? His new “I Spy” memory game that we play six times in a row before his parents finally rescue me.

“Sara's not a sitter, Kevin. She's a sister. Sitters have no choice but to play with you. Sisters do.”

I like that. Having a choice, I mean. I also like my new room. It has pretty yellow wallpaper with tiny green, pink, and purple wildflowers on it. Dark wood around the doors and windows make the room feel warm and safe. Everywhere you look there's wood. Ben would love it here.

Only one thing is missing.

Anna.

I'M UP EARLY THE NEXT
morning, though I'm not the first. Plates clank in the kitchen. When I head downstairs, I can hear my foster mom softly singing to herself.

“Oh, you beautiful doll, you great big beautiful doll. Let me put my arms around you. I can never live without you—”

“How do you know that song?” I demand. It's the one Daddy sang to me the night before he never came back.

“Well, g-good morning to you too,” Mrs. Chandler answers, frowning slightly. “Let me guess. You don't like that tune?”

“I hate it.”

“Then I won't sing it again,” she says, drying her hands on a towel. “Did you sleep well?” She carefully folds the towel and sets it on the counter. The sun pours through the window, and I get a good look at her. A twirl of dark curls fall around a thin, pretty face. She's taller than I am, probably the same size as Mama. So what? Mama has a pretty face too. It doesn't mean anything.

“No. I didn't sleep well.”

“I'm sorry to hear that.” She walks over to me, bends down, and brushes my bangs out of my eyes. “Did you have bad dreams?”

“I don't dream.” I pull back.

“Well, we'll just have to fix that, now, won't we?” She draws me into a hug. Her hair smells like strawberries. Anna would have spit on her or bitten her arm.

I pull away and look around, missing Anna so bad. I should never have wished her away. When I wished it, I didn't mean forever. Just for a little while. Long enough for a good family to want us.

“I have to go,” I say the minute she releases me.

“Go? Go where?” Her voice pinches to a high note.

“Out.” I start for the front door.

“You don't mean outside?” She stands up. “I mean—you haven't even had breakfast yet.”

“I'm not hungry.” My stomach rumbles loudly at the smell of toast. I breathe in deep and swallow, letting my breath out slowly. Like eating paper towels. It's just another way I fool my stomach into thinking it has been fed. With the smell locked into my memory, I can call on it and bring up the scent anytime I want it to help fill me up.

Toast. Coffee. Daddy. It doesn't matter what I whisper. The scent will always be there.

“You should ask me first b-before just t-taking off,” she stammers. “Or at the very least, tell me where you want to go.” She twists her hands.

“Daddy Dan” walks in and looks back and forth between us. I take a good look at him, too. He's tall and lean, like Daddy, only his hair is black as a shadow, and his sideburns are silver. His cheeks look like they've been carved in stone. His eyes are warm, brown, and smiling.

Mine aren't. “Where do I want to go?” I answer hotly. “How about to the place where Anna is? They shouldn't have split us up. They said they wouldn't. Grown-ups lie, lie, lie.”

Mrs. Chandler wilts. Daddy Dan keeps busy by peeling an orange he's taken from the refrigerator. “Not all grown-ups lie, Sara,” he says. Peel. Peel. Peel. “In my line of work, there's an expression, ‘Innocent until proven guilty.' ”

I stare at him. What more proof does he need? “They lie,” I say flatly.

“The story I heard was that Mrs. Craig said she might have let you go in with Anna, but—”

“We ran away. That was then. But that doesn't give her the right to break her promise. She said we would stay together.” I squirm, anxious to leave. “You could have taken both of us.” I glare at them, wondering what the excuse will be this time.