Sara Lost and Found (15 page)

To my surprise, Mrs. Chandler starts to cry. Daddy Dan goes over to her and hugs her, but when he looks back at me, the look in his eyes is disappointment.

So what if my words hurt? Lies hurt too. Mrs. Craig should never have lied. It grows so quiet, I can hear the clock ticking in the living room down the hall.

Mr. Chandler breaks the silence. “She needs help, Sara. Anna needs—”

“I've heard all about what Anna needs, but everybody's wrong. Anna needs
me
.” I feel tears pricking my eyes.

He holds out a section of orange. I hesitate, then snatch it from his hand.

“You can go to the end of the block and back,” he says, opening the door. “We'll wait to eat breakfast until after you get home.”

Home.
I squeeze past him. They think this is home? My real home is on Elm Street or with the Silvermans. Not here.

“Whatever,” I say, banging the door behind me. I need air, not arguments.

“Let her go,” I hear him say through the door. “She misses her sister. It's going to take time.”

When I look back, I see them hug and feel a tug. Not a steal-something kind of tug. Worse. A this-hurts tug. It should be my real Mama and Daddy I watch, hugging each other. But the way Mama and Daddy got close wasn't with hugs. The way they got close was with words. Hurtful words. The very thing that ripped them apart.

I don't need them
.
I don't need anyone.

A COUPLE OF DOORS DOWN
I spot a red-haired girl setting up a table, putting pitchers and cups on it. I slow my pace. Now what? Meet the new neighbor girl Mrs. Chandler talked about? A sign above the stand says something I can't read, but the number on it says
50¢.

A boy who looks like he might be her brother—same reddish hair—pokes up from under the table and plops some cups down.

“Hiya!” the girl yells, running over to me with sandals on her hands instead of her feet. “You must be the new girl we heard about. I'm Lexie. We're new too. We just moved here. What's your name?”

I stop and stare.

“Want a Tropical Thirst Quencher?” she says before I can answer. Not that I was going to.

“Juice,” she says, pointing to the pitcher. “It's fifty cents, but for you, we'll call it a quarter.”

“I'm not thirsty,” I lie, fingering the penny in my pocket. Really, though, my throat is so dry that I can hardly swallow.

Lexie shrugs. “You can have a cup for free if you want.”

I barely taste the juice going down.

“This is my brother, Skeeter.” She sees my face and it's like she reads my mind or something. “He likes bugs,” she explains.

“Oh.”

Skeeter turns as red as his hair.

“So, what's your name?” Lexie asks again.

“Samantha,” I blurt. It just kind of pops out.

“Samantha! Omigosh. Really? What a kawinkeedink. Did you hear that, Skeeter? Her name is Samantha. My best friend's name is Samantha!”

Kawinkeedink?
What kind of a word is that?

“Best friend? That's nice.” I look behind her, wondering what having a best friend would be like. My eyes catch something moving in the bushes. Sneaker?

“We moved here from Riverside. It's this city in Southern California. I wish Samantha were really here. Not you. I mean, don't be hurt or anything, but I was talking about the other Samantha, my best friend.”

And I wish Anna were here,
I think but don't say. “Got any cats around?”

“Ta-ha!” It's a strange little laugh. “Dozens! Strays all over the place.”

Someone pulls up in a car, pays fifty cents, and buys some juice. “Back in a sec,” Lexie calls over her shoulder. I thought she was talking to the people in the car, but when they drive away, I realize she was talking to me.

When she leaves, Skeeter and I look everywhere but at each other, fishing for something to talk about. He has freckles the size of small pebbles all over his arms and face.

He stares down at one of his shoes like it might run off, then darts another look at me. “You like bugs?”

It seems like a strange question, but I nod.

“Me too. I just found a treehopper!”

“I used to live here,” I blurt, not having a clue what a treehopper is.

“Here? You mean in Oakview?”

“No. Here in your house.” I watch a look of amazement slide over his face.

Lexie comes out carrying another pitcher of juice. Skeeter runs over to her. “You're not going to believe this, Lex. She—” He looks at me, frowning. “What did you say your name was again?”

“Sara—mantha,” I say, almost forgetting myself.

“Saramantha used to live here! In our house!”

Lexie stares at me, finally speechless. “You used to live in our house?” A strange look passes between them.

“The stinky sheets!” they cry in unison.

“They aren't mine!” The words tumble out as heat rushes to my face. “They're my sister's.” I catch myself too late.

“You have a sister? How old?” Lexie asks, perking up.

“Twelve,” I mumble. Some holes are hard to crawl out of.

“Twelve years old and she wets the bed?”

“Leave her alone!” I yell. “She can't help it.”

Lexie and Skeeter exchange looks. “Wait here,” they order, running toward their house, hollering, “Mom, Mom!” like the place is on fire.

Yeah, right. Hang around for them to say mean things about me and my sister? I don't think so. I have a cat to look for.

When the door closes behind them, I turn toward my new house and, to my surprise, a small black-and-white cat pounces out and grabs at my shoe.

“Sneaker!” I scoop her up and hold her close. “It's you. It's really you! You're alive. You're okay!”

I press my face into her soft coat. “Let's get outta here so I can tell you about Anna—it's so sad, Sneak.” She purrs against my chest, smelling like cat food.

Before I get ten steps away, footsteps thunder down the porch stairs behind me. I don't turn around.

“Hey, where'd she go?” Skeeter calls.

“There she is.” Lexie sees me before I can duck behind a tree. “Samantha! Wait! We have something for you! Hey. What's she holding? Stop her, Skeet! She's got Poof!”

Lexie sprints across the grass with Skeeter at her heels. They catch up to me at the neighbor's house. Lexie grabs for Sneaker, but I hold on tight.

“Give me back my cat!” she shouts.

I twist away and hug Sneaker even tighter. Skeeter stares at us, making the startled face you make when someone's going to throw something at you.

“I said, give her back! That's my cat!” Lexie shouts again, putting fists up. Her freckled face is flushed from running.

“She's mine,” I argue.

“Says who? I found her first. Get Mom or Dad, Skeeter. No, wait. Call 911. Yeah. Hurry, Skeet! Tell them that some creepy girl is trying to steal our cat!”

“I AM
NOT
CREEPY, AND
this is not your cat!” I shout, almost too mad to talk. Who does she think she is, calling the police on me? Sneaker is mine. Mine and Anna's. We're the ones who saved her from the storm. It's not our fault that we couldn't keep her.

But what if the police don't believe me? What if they find out I steal things, like paper towels and rainmakers? Let her call them! I'll just tell the police about Pablo and how he took my necklace, Cowwy,
and
Mama's letter and picture. If the police arrest anyone, it should be Pablo, not me.

“It's all right, Poofy. I'll get you back,” Lexie says to the cat, all the while glaring at me.

“Poofy? What kind of a dumb name is that? Look, her name is not Poof, Poofy, or any other dumb name you come up with. Her name is Sneaker. I found her when I lived here. Only, the foster parents I was staying with said that they were going to take her to the animal shelter and have her put to sleep!”

Okay, so I kind of made up that last part, but I'm mad.

Lexie gasps. “Put to sleep?” For a moment, she almost looks understanding. “That's awful! Who'd do that?” Then, quick as a snap, she turns mean again. “Look, the cat is mine, and I want her back. What's with you? Stealing other people's pets!”

“I didn't steal anything. I told you, I'm just taking back what's mine.”

“Does your sister steal too?”

I could have spit at her. How dare she say stuff about Anna? Then Kevin shows up dressed like a dragon.

“Leave my new sister alone!” he shouts. He stares out of the mouth of the dragon, even though the dragon's eyes are on top of his head. “I know karate,” he adds, doubling up his small fists.

“New sister?” Lexie frowns.

“We're Sara's new foster family!” Kevin shouts. I sling one arm around him and hold Sneaker in the other.

“Sara?” Lexie glares at me. “I thought you said your name is Samantha! You steal
and
lie?” she explodes. “What else? Do you cheat, too? I don't think people who lie, steal, and cheat should be allowed near our cat, do you, Skeet?” She turns to her brother for support.

Skeeter shrugs and looks over our heads like he's watching for something to fall from the sky.

I stay as still and silent as a rock. Ben Silverman told me once that when people are being bullies, sometimes silence is the best defense.

“Sara's sister didn't get to stay with us. Sara doesn't know if she'll ever see her again!” Kevin shouts. “So quit being so mean.”

Kevin's words stab at me, but Lexie stands her ground.

“It's too bad all that stuff happened to you. But I found this cat, and I've been taking care of her. She's mine. You're the one who left her behind, not me.”

“I didn't leave her!” I say hotly. “Mrs. Craig told us ‘No pets' when she took us back to the Silvermans'.”

“Yeah, well, I have no clue who any of those people are, but Poof is mine!” Lexie says stiffly.

“ 'Fraid not,” I say just as stiffly, though it's hard to stand up to someone who is taller than you and really loud.

“Skeeter, tell her whose cat this is!” Lexie spins around to face her brother.

“That's not fair!” I shout. “You can't ask him. Of course he'll say Sneaker's yours. He's your brother!”

“I'm
your
brother!” Kevin's face lights up. “I'll be on your side, Sara! It'll be a tie!”

“Maybe we should let the cat decide,” Skeeter says.

We all stare at him. What does he mean, let the cat decide? How?

“Hand me the cat. You walk twelve steps this way, and you twelve steps that way, and then I'll put down the cat, and we'll see who she goes to.”

Lexie looks smug and grins at Skeeter. “Good idea, Skeet. Put her down, cat burglar,” she adds, planting herself beside her brother.

I start to worry. Will Sneaker remember me when it really counts?

“Can we bend down and reach for her?” I ask, staying just as close to Skeeter's other side as Lexie is on her side.

Skeeter shakes his head. “Why do girls have to make such a big deal out of everything? Just stand over there and see who the cat goes to!” He glares at his sister and lowers his voice, probably thinking I can't hear him. But I do.

“You hardly pay any attention to that cat, Lexie. What difference does it make who has her?”

Lexie's mouth drops open, and then she closes it so tight, it's just a thin, angry line. “Can it, Skeeter.”

Skeeter ignores her and reaches toward me. Reluctantly, I hand him the cat. At Skeeter's count, Lexie and I each take twelve steps to either side of him and turn around.

“Close your eyes,” Skeeter commands.

“What?” Lexie glares at him.

“Close your eyes. I'm putting her down. No signaling. No coaxing. No nothing. Just close your eyes and we'll see who she goes to.”