Anna nods and looks back at the drums.
“Wow. You gave me something to think about, Sara.”
Pablo looks at me and gives me a thumbs-up, like I’d said something major. Or maybe it’s hard to come up with something Dr. Dan has to think about. He already sounds like he knows pretty much everything.
“Have you girls had enough to eat?” Mrs. MacMillan offers Anna a fresh green bean from a bowl of beans on the table, but Anna shakes her head.
I nod, but tuck a paper napkin in my pocket in case Anna and I get hungry later.
“Good! Then let’s carry these dishes to the kitchen and relax a little. How does that sound?”
I grab my plate and bowl and Anna grabs hers, and we turn to follow Mrs. MacMillan into the house and then to the kitchen.
But before we get there, Anna looks over her shoulder at me and grins. I grin back, but smiles can turn to “Oh no” very fast, which is what my smile does. Anna sees the change. I know because I can see the alarm go off in her eyes.
CHAPTER 9
TOO LATE TO SHOUT A warning. Too late to catch the flying plates as Anna trips over a circle rug on the tile floor.
It’s funny how a sound can shatter more than a plate. When the dishes hit the tile and explode into a million pieces, something explodes inside of me. The whole world turns slo-mo, and just like that, I’m back at home. Mama’s hurling a plate across the kitchen and it smashes against the wall. Spaghetti falls in wet strands to the floor. Mama’s yelling, but Anna and I can’t hear her. We’re screaming too.
Anna yelps, falling hard onto the floor. Her cry startles me. I let go of the bowl and plate I’m holding to reach out for her, when another crash fills my head.
I look in time to see Dr. Dan leap over the rug toward Anna. I catch the shock on Mrs. MacMillan’s face. Her hands are in the air like someone’s about to shoot her.
Pablo stops short behind me and scoops me up. For a second I am flying toward the ceiling, then just as fast I fall and Pablo catches me. My foot is bleeding.
I look behind Pablo at Anna. Dr. Dan has grabbed her and I open my mouth to shout, but Anna’s teeth find their mark and sink into Dr. Dan’s hand.
A noise comes out of him, and the house becomes an echo of cries, yelps, and howls.
It’s a different kind of sound than our “team” tapping out a rainstorm. I see the look on Anna’s face and know she is mortified. Our eyes meet and the feeling passes between us.
I heard at school once that twins do that, have feelings and thoughts pass between them.
Anna and I aren’t twins, but we share a different kind of twin: fear.
And the fear-twins don’t need to learn a language to understand one another.
When the glass settles and the howling stops, silence fills the room. All that can be heard is Anna whimpering, “Let go. Let go.”
Pablo sets me down gently, but holds my shoulders so I don’t bolt across the broken glass toward Anna.
“Don’t anybody move,” Mrs. MacMillan says, then breaks her own rule and steps into the kitchen, returning with a broom and dustpan. “Dan, how’s your hand?”
Dr. Dan takes in a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “She barely broke the skin. It should be okay.”
“She didn’t mean to bite you,” I tell him quietly. “She doesn’t like to be touched.”
Meanwhile, Anna has cocooned at the end of a couch, wrapping her arms tightly around her knees.
“Pablo, can you carry Sara into the kitchen and put her on a chair so I can check to make sure there’s no glass in that cut on her foot?”
“Sure.” Pablo swoops me up and lands me on a chair by the kitchen table. He had worn shoes, so he didn’t get cut. My feet are bare.
As Mrs. MacMillan sweeps up bits of broken plates and glasses, Pablo rushes to get a trash can. Dr. Dan stays by Anna. I can’t see them, but I can picture them sitting across from one another in an awkward silence.
“I know I scared you, Anna, and I am very sorry. I would never hurt you.” He pauses. “In the future, I’ll try not to scare you, but it would help if you would just say the word ‘No’ instead of biting.
“You bit my hand, Anna, and as a surgeon, I need my hands almost more than I need anything else.”
The long silence that follows is filled by swishing, clinking, and rattling sounds as Mrs. MacMillan’s broom sweeps the last bits of broken glass and dumps them in the can.
Dr. Dan is the first to speak. “Anna, how did you get those cigarette burns on your arm?” He looks over at Mrs. MacMillan. “Did the caseworker mention these to you?”
Anna sharply sucks in air. I slip off the chair in the kitchen and when I reach it, peek around the door frame.
His questions freeze something in me. Cigarette burns?
Anna buries her head in her knees and whimpers. I don’t hear Pablo come up behind me, when he gently lifts me up and takes me to the couch.
I get on my knees and wrap my arms around my sister, rocking her back and forth.
Mrs. MacMillan walks over and strokes my hair. “She’s lucky to have you, Sara.”
I am not sure “luck” is the right word. To me, luck is something more sudden than a sister. Luck is like finding a cookie that the rats overlooked.
Or not being called on when you don’t know the answer at school.
Or finding Ben and Rachel home when you run away.
That’s luck.
When Anna settles down and the glass is all swept and vacuumed, Dr. Dan picks me up and sets me on a counter in the brightly lit kitchen so he can take a closer look at my foot.
“Well, I don’t see any glass shavings in the cut, Sara, but just to be safe, I’m going to put some hydrogen peroxide on it. This is going to sting, but only for a moment. You’ll see a lot of bubbling around the cut as it cleans it out. Are you ready?”
Anna presses against my leg, clenching her teeth and staring at my foot, like she’s the one getting the stinging stuff put on. It’s the twin thing I talked about before.
Pablo and Mrs. MacMillan stand in front, giving me “It will be okay” looks, but I know it won’t. Looks try to lie sometimes, but I usually can tell a fib look from a truth one.
“Ready,” I answer, not feeling one bit ready. The liquid is cold at first, then turns burning hot around the cut. I yelp, trying to jerk my foot away, but Dr. Dan has a good grip on it.
“Owwowow!” The bubbling starts and the burning fades. Anna and I lean forward and watch the liquid clean the wound.
“All done!” Dr. Dan chirps. “I’ll put a Band-Aid on it and you, brave girl, are good to go.”
“And as for you, Anna, I have some lotion we can put on your arm that will fade those burn marks.”
“No!” Anna presses her other arm across the burned one.
“Good, Anna, for saying ‘no.’ It doesn’t sting,” Dr. Dan added quickly. “As a matter of fact, it feels good. Tell you what, I don’t even have to put it on. I can just squeeze some lotion in this hand”—he turns the bottle over and pours lotion onto Anna’s left hand—“and you can rub it lightly onto your arm. How’s that?” He pulls me down from the counter and pats my head.
As Anna rubs the lotion on her burns, a small smile slightly curls her lips. “No hurt!”
Dr. Dan grins. “That’s right. No hurt.”
But what Anna doesn’t see is that Dr. Dan has the hand she bit behind his back, and he’s flexing it. Open. Close. Open. Close.
Daddy’s hands are important too. He can’t play drums if his hands don’t work.
Open. Close. Open. Close.
I stare at Dr. Dan’s hands, wondering, Is Daddy okay? Can he come and get us?
The MacMillans are nice, but I want to go home.
CHAPTER 10
I DON’T HEAR HER COME in, so when Mrs. MacMillan sits down beside me that evening, there’s no trying to hide my tears. All the commotion earlier over the broken plates kept my mind on other things, but now old worries have begun
to creep in. Exhausted by the day’s events, Anna has fallen asleep on the floor under the window before I can ask her who burned her arm with cigarettes. The thought of someone doing that to her fills me with rage. When her arm falls to the side, I can see the marks make a P. I count the circles. There are eight of them.
Mrs. MacMillan hands me a book. “I hear you like stories,” she whispers. “This was one of Pablo’s favorites, so I thought you might like it too.”
I stare at the cover, not making a move to open it.
She bends down to look at me. “Have you already read it? I can bring you another one, or better yet, why don’t you pick one out that you like?”
“This one’s fine,” I finally answer. I relax, remembering my trick to keep people from knowing I can’t read.
“What was your favorite part?” I ask.
“If I tell you that, it will spoil it for you!”
My heart sinks. Most people can’t wait to tell me their favorite part of a story, not caring if I’ve read it or not.
“You read it, then we can compare notes and see if the part you liked best was the one I liked best too!” She raises her eyebrows and grins, like she’s expecting an answer.
I don’t say anything. It’s not like she really asked a question. “I think I know what’s troubling you,” Mrs. MacMillan says quietly, stroking my hair.
My stomach tightens. “You do?”
She reaches in her pocket and pulls out an envelope. She takes a folded piece of paper out of it. “This fell out of the pocket of your jacket.”
Mama’s letter! “Did you look at it?” I can barely breathe.
When she nods, my throat tightens even more.
“You miss her, don’t you?”
I nod, not believing that she actually read Mama’s letter.
She slips the letter back into the envelope and hands it to me. Then she gets up. “Do you want to talk about anything?”
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.
CHAPTER 11
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.
Sara Lost and Found Page 6
