Sara Lost and Found

by Virginia Castleman

  Lexie grabs my hands in hers and squeezes tight. “A Cause for Paws,” she whispers.

  “A Cause for Paws,” I whisper back.

  Heather leads us into the studio, puts our headsets on, and tests our voices. As each of us speaks, she raises and lowers levers on what she calls an equalizer until she is satisfied that everything sounds just right.

  Like magic, music comes on, making it sound like something really special is about to happen. As the music starts to fade, Heather smiles brightly at us and winks.

  “Thank you for joining us today on ‘A Closer Look.’ I’m your host, Heather White, and with me today are two delightful guests with a heartfelt cause. I hope you’ll listen to what they have to say and offer them support. I’m leaving the phone lines open, so feel free to call with questions, comments, or suggestions. The number to call is 555-KUNV.

  “Our special guests today are Sara Olson and Lexie Anderson, organizers and cofounders of A Cause for Paws—a humanitarian club made up of kids working hard to improve the quality of life for the strays in our neighborhoods. Welcome, ladies.”

  “Thank you,” we say together, and stifle our giggles. Lexie looks as nervous as I feel.

  “Now, then. Your club sounds great, but what exactly do you do?” Heather focuses first on me.

  “Well, we started A Cause for Paws because we wanted to do something about all the stray cats in our neighborhood. When people don’t have their cats fixed,” I add, relaxing a little, “the cats have kittens. Then the kittens grow up and have kittens, and those kittens grow up to have more kittens. . . .”

  “Whose job do you think it is to care for and feed all those unwanted animals?” Heather asks Lexie.

  Lexie leans closer to the microphone and shoots an uneasy glance toward me. She knows I bristle at the word “unwanted.”

  “I think it’s the job of the people who didn’t take care of their cats.”

  “In other words, you would place the responsibility on the cat owners?”

  Lexie nods. Heather covers her microphone and whispers, “Remember to talk, not nod. People can’t see you.”

  “Yes,” Lexie blurts. “The problem is the cat owners.”

  “So, your club is trying to fix the existing problem of all these unwanted kittens running around, and prevent the problem from happening again. That’s a pretty tall order.”

  “These kittens aren’t unwanted,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady. “Maybe people who want them just don’t know how to get them.”

  Lexie beams at me. It turns out to be the perfect lead-in for announcing our plan.

  “What do you think can be done?” Heather asks.

  Both of us talk at once. “We have this idea,” Lexie says.

  “It’s in the early stages,” I add. “But if we could get someone to help us, someone who knows about rules and laws and stuff—”

  Lexie clears her throat. “Yeah, if we could get people to think about how scared and hungry these kittens must be out there all on their own, and how we have a lot of lonely people in the city who would love to have a pet, then we could try to put two and two together.”

  “We call it our Foster Kitten, Foster Home Program,” I ad-lib. “We’re hoping that if people keep the kittens for a while and grow to like them, they’ll want to adopt them.” One of the phone lines lights up, and Lexie and I stare at it, mesmerized. Someone out there is listening!

  Heather presses a button to take the call. “ ‘A Closer Look.’ Hi, you’re on the air.”

  “Hello, Heather. My name is Audrey Davis. I’m a local veterinarian, and I listen to your program regularly. I work closely with the Humane Society and other animal rescue groups, and I just had to call and say how impressed I am with your guests. As a matter of fact, I’d like to offer my clinic this Saturday from one p.m. to four p.m. so that A Cause for Paws can bring kittens by for a checkup, shots, and spaying and neutering. I challenge fellow veterinarians to make the same pledge to help these kids out. Let’s support worthy programs like this.”

  Lexie and I can barely believe our ears. More calls come in. One listener volunteers to contact the Humane Society and other animal-protection agencies to ask them to sponsor more Cause for Paws clubs in neighborhoods throughout the city. Another call comes in from the general manager of High Sierra Convalescent Center, who agrees to adopt two kittens as soon as Dr. Davis examines them. He asks other convalescent homes to do it too.

  Finally, Heather turns to us. “Before we conclude today’s program, are there any last thoughts you’d like to share?”

  I stare at the button that lights up when a call comes in. Why hasn’t Daddy called? How can I get his attention now that the show’s almost over?

  “I’ve got something,” I blurt. Heat races to my face. “I know a song and, well, maybe if I sing it, everyone will remember what we talked about today. I’d like to sing it for all the strays out there who are lost, lonely, and wanting or needing a home.”

  Lexie’s mouth drops open. “You can sing?” she whispers.

  Heather smiles and announces to the listeners, “Well, this is a treat. A closing song written and sung by Sara Olson.”

  “Actually, it’s like one my daddy wrote,” I correct, hoping beyond all hope that by stretching things out, he will hear me and figure out how to find me.

  “You’re on, Sara.”

  I clear my throat. My hands start to sweat. What should I sing? I would have to make up a song on the spot. Maybe Anna will hear it along with Daddy.

  “My song’s called ‘Home,’ ” I say. I open my mouth and out come the words:

  Home is a place

  I wish I could be.

  Right now my home

  Isn’t up to me.

  You ran away.

  My heart broke in two.

  Now I have no home,

  And I don’t have you.

  Home is a place

  I wish I could be.

  Right now my home

  Is inside of me.

  My home’s my heart,

  And it’s on the mend.

  Invite me home,

  And you’ve made a friend.

  “Adopt a stray!” I say, ending my song.

  “Wow, Sara,” Lexie whispers, all choked up. “It’s like a theme song!”

  After a moment of silence, more phone lines light up and the closing music comes on. “A Closer Look” is over.

  After we thank Heather, Lexie and I take off the headsets. Exhausted, we head back to the front of the studio, where Lexie’s dad is waiting for us, smiling. I look around, hoping to see my dad, too, but he’s nowhere. I have to think of a way to give him enough time to find the station.

  “You did it!” Lexie shouts, hugging me.

  “We did it,” I correct, hugging her back. Suddenly I realize what having a friend feels like. The feeling is wonderful, yet scary. Friends can disappear too. Like sisters, and brothers, and pets, and parents. They can be there one minute and gone the next.

  “You sure did.” Heather beams. She walks us to the door and shakes our hands. “I might just have to come over and take one of those kittens myself,” she says, giving me a hug.

  “Ready?” Lexie’s dad asks, his eyes sparkling.

  “I have to go to the bathroom,” I say quickly.

  “It’s right down the hall, Sara.” Heather points down a shiny hallway. “And to your left,” she adds. I walk slowly. Behind me, Lexie is chattering with her dad. I don’t even have to turn around to picture them grinning at each other.

  When I come out, Daddy will be here. I just know it.

  “Did you, like, die and flush yourself down the toilet?” a voice suddenly calls. I stay seated, chin on my elbows, and don’t answer. I know it’s Lexie.

  “Sara?” Lexie’s hair sweeps the floor as she bends down to look under the stall door. “I thought those were your feet. You okay?”

  I sigh. It seems answer enough. I open the door and look for some sign on
her face that Daddy came. It’s like she reads my mind.

  “He’s not here, Sara.”

  I start for the door. “Hey, don’t you want to wash your hands?”

  “I didn’t go,” I mumble. “I was just—”

  I don’t have to finish. Part of being a friend, it turns out, is knowing what someone can’t say and why they can’t say it. Lexie knows. Right now, that’s enough.

  * * *

  On the drive home, I listen to Lexie talk everything over with her dad. I watch their faces light up and the sparkle in their eyes dance.

  Daddy should have been there. He didn’t come. My thoughts shift, not to Mama or seeing Daddy, but to Anna. All I want to do is see my sister. At least I know where she is.

  The car suddenly gets quiet. I look up.

  “Are you all right?” Lexie looks at me funny.

  I don’t realize until then that I’ve been crying. “I was so sure Daddy would hear me and that he’d be at the station.”

  Lexie looks at her dad and back at me. I can tell she’s struggling for something to say. “The biggest thing I ever lost is a tooth,” she says, “but another one grew in its place. It’s not like losing a person.”

  “With all those rules about Anna having to improve her behavior, I’ll probably never get to see her or even talk to her again.” I bite my lip.

  Mr. Anderson pulls over to the side of the road and twists around to look at me. “I have something that might make you feel better,” he says, reaching into his pocket. He hands me my half-heart necklace.

  At first I just stare. “It can’t be!” I say, but it is. I run my finger over the half heart, knowing Anna’s running her finger over her half.

  “How did you find it?”

  “We were sweeping out the attic where the box was that you hid Anna’s sheets in—the one with Cowwy?” Lexie says excitedly.

  I nod, clinging to the necklace.

  “Well, when Dad went to toss the dirt we swept up, guess what he saw?”

  “My necklace! You found my necklace. Thank you. Thank you so much.”

  Lexie grins. “We found it, and I had Mom get a new chain for it. The one it had was broken, but it’s not anymore! See?”

  I put it on. “This is so great. My mom gave this to me and the other half to Anna. She said to never take it off, but my chain broke. Anna still has hers.” Words slide out of me like water over rocks. Mr. Anderson smiles and pulls back onto the road.

  “Now you don’t have to take it off either. And Dad can help you get in to see Anna, right, Dad?”

  I hold my breath, not daring to breathe, waiting for his answer.

  “Who-o-a! Slow down, Lex. I didn’t say that—”

  “But you said—”

  He holds a hand up like a stop sign. “Let’s tackle one problem at a time, shall we?”

  As we pull into the Andersons’ driveway, a photographer from the local paper is waiting for us. I see the Chandlers waving from Lexie’s porch. We jump out of the car and gather in the front yard. Kevin starts handing out stray kittens.

  “One for you. . . . One for you.”

  The photographer has me, Kevin, Skeeter, and Lexie hold the kittens out like we’re wanting to give them to someone. “Look for it in tomorrow’s paper,” he says, packing up his gear.

  Tomorrow’s paper! Maybe Daddy will see my picture and then come get me! The thought gets my heart pounding so hard, I can feel it.

  “Thank you!” Lexie and I shout together.

  On our way home, Kevin tells me about all the Halloween decorations he’s made for the house. When he takes a breather, Mrs. Chandler gives my shoulders a squeeze. “You were great on the radio, Sara. I am so proud of you.”

  “You heard me?”

  She nods. I hold up the necklace for her to see. “Mr. Anderson found it in the attic at their house.”

  “Let me see, let me see.” Kevin jumps in front of me for a closer look. I bend over and show him.

  He turns and pulls his dad’s arm down for a whisper. “Should I tell her the heart’s broke?”

  Mr. Chandler scruffs Kevin’s hair. “She knows,” he whispers back. “The necklace was made that way.”

  “Oh,” Kevin answers, but I know he doesn’t understand.

  I walk beside them, happy about my necklace and how great it feels to get back something I thought I had lost, and how happy I am to be part of a family that really loves me and cares about what I’m doing and feeling.

  Later, back at home, as I put Mama’s photo and letter, Ben’s penny, and Abby’s plastic arm in the box that Pablo gave me, I feel something else, too.

  A sense of hope.

  CHAPTER 28

  THE NEXT MORNING, LEXIE RACES over, waving the paper wildly. “Look, Sara! There really is a story about us in the Oakview Daily News!” She hands it to me, and I can’t believe my eyes. Along with the photo is a story all about A Cause for Paws.

  “We’ll get copies and frame them!” Lexie announces, eyeing Mr. Chandler’s thin French pancakes. He invites her to join us, and we wolf them down. Between bites, we talk about new ways to make our foster kitten program a success. But the whole time we’re eating and talking, I’m smiling inside. Daddy will see my picture. Daddy will take me home.

  At school, kids crowd around us, taking flyers faster than we can pass them out. One kid even asks me to sign the flyer. I sign it Sara Olson. My writing’s not very good, but he doesn’t seem to care.

  * * *

  On Saturday, Dr. Davis gives the kittens checkups, and she even keeps a lot of them at the animal hospital so people can go there to adopt them.

  A local pet store called Meow ’N’ Friends supplies a month’s worth of free cat food to High Sierra Convalescent Center, and KUNV continues to mention our Cause for Paws campaign on their public service announcements.

  To prepare for Halloween on Monday, Mr. Chandler steps up onto a ladder to hang a hairy spider over the front door to scare the trick-or-treaters. Mrs. Chandler adjusts the tail on Kevin’s dragon costume. Kevin wiggles and shakes.

  “Be still, Kev, if you want this tail to last the night.”

  Kevin grins and finally settles down.

  “Sara? We have something important to talk to you about,” Mrs. Chandler says.

  I look up from a nose-and-whiskers mask I’m making for my cat costume and see them lined up like birds on a wire, looking down at me. My chest tightens.

  “Like what?” I figure I know what’s coming. They’re moving, or another kid needs a placement and they can’t keep me, or . . . they don’t want to be a foster family anymore. But their faces don’t look like bad news.

  “Like whether you’d like to become a more permanent part of our family.”

  “You mean—” I don’t finish the thought.

  Mrs. Chandler steps toward me and smiles. “We’d like to adopt you, Sara. It’s not going to happen overnight. We’ll need letters of release from your mother and father, and the paperwork is a nightmare, but if it’s all right with you, we really want you to join our family.”

  We’d like to adopt you. The magic words dance in my head. “Adopt me?” My mind whirls. They want me!

  “What about Anna?” I watch an uneasy look pass between Mr. and Mrs. Chandler.

  Mr. Chandler walks over and sits down beside me on the couch. Kevin is as quiet as he’s ever been and stares at his dad.

  “We don’t want you to think we’re not being honest with you, Sara, so I’ll tell you that it would be very hard for us to take Anna right now. She needs—” Mr. Chandler looks at his wife for the right phrase.

  “Special help?” I fill in the blank for him while everything in me collapses. “Can I just see her?” I watch the spider’s shadow dance on the wall behind them, as if it, too, is trying to get away from something. The truth, maybe.

  “We won’t say you can,” Mr. Chandler explains gently, “but we won’t say you can’t, either, because the fact is, right now we simply don’t know.”


  “We’re working with Mrs. Craig and the residential center to see if there’s a possibility of working out visitations,” Mrs. Chandler adds, “but I won’t lie to you, Sara. These things take time.”

  I nod. I know how long everything takes. They don’t need to tell me.

  A thought troubles me, though. If they adopt me, do I keep my last name? Or will I have to change it to theirs?

  “If you adopt me, what will I be called?”

  “We don’t need to decide that now. But even if you keep your last name, when we adopt you, you’ll be a member of our family,” Mr. Chandler adds, urging Kevin to come sit with him. Kevin lifts his dragon feet high and tromps across the room. He plops down hard on his dad’s lap.

  When we adopt you. There they are again. The magic words. I think back to Pablo and how he must have felt. Still, their questions leave me feeling funny inside. If I give up my last name, am I giving up on my family? On Anna? You’re an Olson, Sara. You’ll always be an Olson. Never forget that.

  Daddy’s words ring in my ears.

  I try to think of times other people change their names. Criminals sometimes change their names. I’ve stolen things, so that kind of fits, but I don’t want to feel like a criminal. Actors and musicians sometimes use other names. I want to be a singer, so that kind of fits.

  Women change their names when they get married. Well, it’ll be a long time before I get married, but then I remember something else. Sometimes women hyphenate their old names with their new ones. Maybe I could be Sara Olson-Chandler. That way, if they ever came back to get me, Mama and Daddy would see I not only kept my name, but I also kept my word.

  Mrs. MacMillan would have liked the sound of that—keeping my word.

  “You still look worried, Sara. Is it about your name? You don’t need to decide anything about that now.” Mrs. Chandler stands and offers me a hand to stand too. I grab it and pull myself to my feet. Her eyes are warm and loving, but I see hurt in them. I know she had hoped my answer would be “Yes, I want to be part of this family!” without any hesitation.

  I walk over and hug her, not wanting to see the pain anymore. I feel Kevin’s arms wrap around us from behind.