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.”
“Not too full to repair the upstairs bathroom, I hope,” Mrs. MacMillan says, helping herself to more salad.
Dr. Dan groans. “It’s amazing how one small leak can cause so much trouble.”
Well, he’s right about that. Anna didn’t wet the bed last night, so they probably don’t know about her little problem, but one little leak does cause a lot of trouble.
“You girls must be excited about going back to the Silvermans’,” Mrs. MacMillan says as Pablo and Dr. MacMillan head upstairs to work on the plumbing. “And you’ll have brand-new clothes to take with you,” she adds.
“Thanks again for the nice clothes,” I mumble. I’m not ready to be un-mad at Anna yet. Anna mumbles, “Thanks.” I wonder if she feels as torn as I do about leaving. We’re just starting to get used to the MacMillans. Pablo is the big brother we never had, and he can speak two languages! Mrs. MacMillan is nice and really seems to like us. Dr. Dan goes to faraway places to help kids. Their world is a bigger place than Anna and I have ever known, maybe ever will know. Still, as big as it is, it isn’t big enough for Anna and me to fit in it.
“Sneaker?” Anna looks hopeful, but Mrs. MacMillan shakes her head.
“If you’re talking about Sneaker coming with you, I’m sorry, sweetie. No cats. Mrs. Craig said that maybe when you get into a more permanent setting you can have a pet, but this isn’t a good time. I did ask, though.”
“Will you be taking Sneaker with you?” I look up at Mrs. MacMillan, already knowing the answer.
“I can’t lie to you, Sara. We won’t be taking Sneaker.”
“When will Mrs. Craig come and get us?” I ask, crushed that Sneaker can’t come with us. I know I’ll have to find a place to hide her so she won’t get hurt or picked up by Animal Control.
“Mrs. Craig will be here early tomorrow morning.”
“That soon? I thought we were going to stay here longer.” I slump in my chair.
“I thought so too, honey. But something has come up. A baby was born who’s very sick, and now that the other doctor is sick too, we’re going to have to leave for South America sooner than we’d expected.”
Anna sits and stares at her doll.
Mrs. MacMillan turns to the sink and starts running water and washing dishes. I follow Anna back to the table and sit across from her.
“It’s your fault that we have to move. I hope you know that,” I whisper.
Anna’s stone face never changes expression. It’s like she doesn’t even hear me. “New plans,” she blurts hotly.
“Yeah, they have new plans, or so they say, but after you practically choked that kid to death, they probably made up all that sick-baby stuff so they can get rid of us sooner. You’re the reason nobody wants us, Anna. Nobody. Not even Mama or Daddy.”
“No like Anna?” she whispers. Pop, pop, pop. Doll parts fall to the floor until I want to reach across with my foot and smash every last one of them.
“Life would be so much better—” I don’t finish the sentence. I don’t need to.
Anna pulls Abby’s head off and hurls it across the room.
* * *
That night, I can’t sleep. How can I have said all those things to Anna? I sound just like Mama when she told me, “You’re just like him,” and then ran away.<
br />
Anna can’t help the way she is. I wonder if what happened to her when we got separated that one time was what changed her. It’s as if when she got burned with the cigarettes, fear got burned into her. She’s like two people now. The Outside Anna and Inside Anna. I want the inside one, my sister, back. But still, inside . . . outside . . . I can’t shake the thought that she’s the real reason—not some job or sick baby—that we have to leave.
CHAPTER 12
WHEN I ROLL OVER AND look at my sister, the moon casts a soft white glow against her skin. She looks so peaceful. So normal. I feel horrible all over again for getting so mad at her, and for saying I wished she would go away. And just like that, things change as she slips into a nightmare and starts thrashing and crying out.
“Anna. Anna! Wake up.” She wakes up crying so hard, she wets the bed. That makes her cry even harder.
“Shhh.” I reach under the bottom sheet and grab the rainmaker to comfort her. When she’s calm, I tell her how I’ll get new sheets. “You see if you can find a box or something we can put these in.” I pile the soiled fitted sheet and top sheet up next to the bed. I’ve seen where Mrs. MacMillan keeps linens, in a hall closet, and I hurriedly tiptoe out to grab replacement sheets.
When I come back, I hear Anna’s whimpers coming from a corner.
“Did you find a box?”
She sniffs loudly and holds one up that she found in the closet. Drawn on it is a birthday cake with candles. Probably left over from Pablo’s last birthday. I hand Anna the clean sheets and wad up the damp ones. While I stuff them into the box, she puts the new sheets on the bed. “No one will know,” I tell her. “It’ll be our secret.”
When we’re done, I tuck her into bed. “I’ll be right back. I have to find a good place to hide the box.”
She nods and pulls the sheet up tight around her chin.
On tiptoe, I sneak into Pablo’s room, hesitating at the attic door. It has a different kind of knob than other doors in the house. It isn’t a knob at all, really. More like a small silver handle that clicks loudly when I turn it. Pablo’s lucky to have an attic room right off his bedroom.
Pablo stirs in his bed but doesn’t wake up. My heart pounds so hard. I set the box down quietly and slowly pull the door open, breathing through each creak, hoping Pablo won’t catch me.
Once inside, I notice that the empty attic is surprisingly cool. Feeling my way along the wall with my elbow, I put the box in a corner and then feel my way (this time with my hands) back to the door, latching it behind me.
As I tiptoe across the room, I feel big like a giant, when I want to feel like a mouse—small and invisible. I watch Pablo, hoping he stays asleep, and run headlong into Mrs. MacMillan.
“So, you’re the little mouse I hear moving around,” she whispers. My heart races. Did she see me go in the attic? Will she find the hidden sheets?
“You scared the living daylights out of me,” she adds.
I have no clue what living daylights are, but judging by her face, I know she’s shaken.
“I couldn’t sleep,” I mumble. “I was checking to see if Pablo was awake.” It isn’t the total truth, but it isn’t a total lie, either. After all, I was looking to see if he was awake when I bumped into her.
“Next time you can’t sleep, wake me up.”
I look up and nod, thinking, I did wake you up, but don’t say anything. She leads me back to my bedroom, where Anna sits wide-eyed, looking scared. I crawl in beside her.
“Goodness! You can’t sleep either?” Mrs. MacMillan sits on the edge of the bed closest to me.
Anna glances my way, and I smile and nod a tiny nod so she’ll know our secret is safe. Relieved, Anna looks back at Mrs. MacMillan and shakes her head.
“I know you’re excited about going to the Silvermans’, but you need your rest. Ruth—Mrs. Craig, that is—will be here bright and early.”
“I still don’t see why you and Dr. Dan can’t keep us,” I blurt out. “I mean, we got here before you heard about the sick baby.”
Mrs. MacMillan looks first at Anna, then at me. She takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “Mrs. Craig told you this was only a temporary placement, Sara, while they tried to find a more permanent home, right?”
“But she always says that. I thought you guys liked us and might want to keep us.” I squeeze my hands into fists to keep from crying.
“We do like you, but this isn’t about liking. It’s about commitment. Doctors Without Borders is something we committed to years ago. It’s our way of making the world a better place. We opened our home so you would have a place to stay, but we’re foster parents, Sara. We weren’t thinking about adopting.”
“You adopted Pablo,” I remind her hotly.
“That was different. No one told us we couldn’t adopt him. But with you—” She stares at her fingers as she twists them together.
“Well, there are strings attached. Your parents are keeping anyone from adopting you. Your mother is nowhere to be found, and your father—”
I lie still, hardly daring to breathe. The air around me feels ice-cold, like it would crack if I even moved a muscle.
“It’s great that your daddy is trying so hard to hold on, but it makes it hard for a family to adopt you.”
“Daddy’s holding on to us because he’s coming back.” My arms are crossed over my chest so tightly that I can hardly breathe. Still, it gives my body a sense that something’s holding it together. I’m afraid that if I let go, I might just spill out all over the place.
She tucks the sheet around us. “I hope you’re right, Sara. It’s hard for us to leave, not knowing if you girls have found a home with parents who can be there for you.”
“So you’re really going?” I look up, hoping she might change her mind.
“Yes, we’re going, but that is not to say we aren’t going to miss you both terribly.” She leans over and kisses my forehead. “I’ve been nothing but honest with you, right?”
I nod, even though I’m thinking that honesty doesn’t always mean anything feels better. It’s as if she reads my thoughts.
“I know the truth can hurt, but I also believe that being honest and open and keeping one’s word are important ways to show love for each other. I could easily make things up. But I want you to be able to believe what I say and to know that I’m not trying to hurt you. I’m just trying to let you know in advance how things will be so you’re not caught off guard. Does that make sense?”
I nod, wanting to make her feel better about leaving us. It’s not her fault that Dr. Dan’s on this team and they can’t stay. And she did take good care of us. Still . . .
As she moves toward my sister, Anna curls up into a tight ball and hides her head.
“Good night, Anna.” She tucks the sheets around her. “Think good thoughts,” she says, looking at me, then leaves.
Anna uncurls and pokes her head out. “Sheets all gone?” she whispers.
“The attic was empty, so there’s no reason for anyone to go in there. It’s safe, Anna.”
With that, she slips into a relaxed sleep while I stare at the spiderlike shadows on the wall. I make a circle around the shadows with my fingers. It looks like a dream catcher. But the shadow dream catcher is not real enough to pull bad thoughts away. I roll onto my side and think about what Mrs. MacMillan said.
There are strings attached. Was she saying Mama and Daddy have us tied to some invisible string? Are we like kites?
I picture big scissors hovering over us. Snip, snip. Everyone knows what happens when kite strings get cut.
Bye-bye, kites.
CHAPTER 13
THE NEXT MORNING, WE WAKE up and hear Dr. Dan and Mrs. MacMillan talking to Mrs. Craig, who has already arrived to get us. Anna and I race to get our clothes on.
Clutching Abby, Anna starts for the door.
“Wait. We can’t forget Mama’s picture.” I reach under the sheets. Mama’s letter and picture are gone! I yank on the mattress and hold i
t up for Anna to look. She shakes her head. Not again!
I gasp. “What could have happened to them?” We search the top of the bed, under it, under the covers, inside the pillow covers. No photo. No letter. No nothing.
“And where’s Cowwy?” I wail. We search and search, but there is no sign of Cowwy, either. It’s as if a ghost sneaked in during the night and snatched them.
“Pablo!” I cry.
“Pablo?” Anna looks at me all funny.
“Don’t you see? He’s getting back at me because I stole his stupid rainmaker.” I look around for it, but it, too, has disappeared.
I march downstairs, Anna right behind me, furious with Pablo.
“You stole rainmaker?”
I ignore Anna’s question. Everyone is waiting at the car. I dump our bags in the backseat.
“Well, girls, are you ready?” Mrs. MacMillan sounds chipper, but she has dark circles under her eyes.
“They’re pretty tired,” she explains to Mrs. Craig. “Last night—” Her voice trails off. I glance at Anna, who looks sadder than ever. Her half-heart necklace hangs limply over her shirt. I reach up to touch mine. It’s gone.
“My necklace!”
“Did you lose something?” Pablo looks at me. How dare he pretend not to know what’s wrong! I turn away, not saying anything about Cowwy, Mama’s letter, the photo, or the necklace. What does he want with a necklace, a letter, a photo, and a stuffed animal? He’s just being mean.
“You lost your necklace?” Mrs. MacMillan looks alarmed. “Let’s go search your room. Maybe it fell on the carpet.”
Soon everyone is up in the room on hands and knees, searching.
I crawl over to Pablo. “You are going to look pretty dumb in a girl’s necklace,” I whisper. “And what do you want with a letter that’s not even addressed to you?” There. Now he knows that I know. I could maybe get another necklace, but Mama’s letter and picture?
To my surprise, he isn’t giving me the “You caught me” look I’m expecting. Instead, he leans close and whispers, “When you cheat, or lie, or steal, everything you do reflects it, like a mirror.”
Sara Lost and Found Page 7
