Sara Lost and Found by Virginia Castleman Page A

there every year for six months to help sick children and perform surgeries on those with deformities.”
    South America? Anna and I are moving to South America? I barely know where that is.
    â€œIsn’t that pretty far from here?” I manage to say. How will Daddy find us?
    The whole room grows the kind of quiet that makes people cough in church. Any good feelings I might have start to slip away.
    â€œOh, honey. I didn’t mean that you and Anna would be moving too. Just the MacMillans.”
    Like I said before, we’re learning not to get too attached to places or people.
    â€œNot us?” Anna hangs her head. I can tell she likes the MacMillans. Except for the Silvermans, this is a first.
    â€œWith everything that’s going on with your mom and dad, this really wouldn’t be the best time to go out of the country. In the meantime,” Mrs. Craig adds, standing up like she’s readying to go, “the Silvermans said that they might be able to fill in until I find another family who can take you girls—that is, until we hear more about what’s happening with your parents. How does that sound?”
    Anna glances at me and looks down at the floor again. The news about the Silvermans is good. I look around. The house seems nice enough. It has carpet the color of sand, which feels warm on my feet. The front room has the biggest brown couch I’ve ever seen. It’s like three couches in one. Good thing it’s here and not at the Silvermans’. Ben could hurt himself moving a couch like that.
    Books are everywhere. Shelves and shelves of them. Some standing. Some with the covers facing out. Some tipped over. I look at them, wishing I could read them. Anna and I love books. Pictures line the walls, like windows to another world, a world of aunts, uncles, cousins, grandparents, friends, birthdays, weddings, and—I stare at Pablo’s picture—adoption.
    The house is friendly enough, I tell myself. We’d just have to not get too used to it.
    The kitchen, meanwhile, smells of Ms. Thistleberry’s soup. I wonder if Mrs. MacMillan buys from her too.
    â€œDoes that sound okay to you girls? Staying here for a while, then going back to the Silvermans?” Dr. MacMillan asks.
    I shrug and nod for both of us. The silence that fills the room suddenly feels like a living, breathing thing, and Anna fidgets.
    â€œNow that that’s cleared up, how about a tour of the house? Then we can all have lunch together,” Mrs. MacMillan chirps brightly.
    â€œI’ll walk you to your car,” Dr. MacMillan says, holding the door open for Mrs. Craig. “Unless you’d care to join us.”
    â€œI really should be getting along. I have another call to make.” Mrs. Craig gives us both a quick hug. “You girls take care, okay? I’ll call you early in the week to see how things are going. And Barbara has my number if you need to talk to me.”
    I nod, not wanting her to go. Not yet. But she leaves. Wishing doesn’t always make things happen.
    â€œDo you want to see your room?” Pablo looks from me to Anna.
    Anna leans close to my ear. “Hide Sneaker,” she whispers as we head for the stairs.
    I grin.
    â€œAh-ah. It’s not nice to whisper when others are around,” Mrs. MacMillan says behind us. “No keepers of secrets in this house!”
    Keepers of secrets. Ha. The name fits Anna and me better than any of them know.
    *  *  *
    That night, after a dinner of mashed potatoes, salad, corn on the cob, and roast beef, I slip a slice of meat into a Baggie I find on the counter and head upstairs. Curled up in bed, I lie awake staring at the millions of stars outside the window, wondering which one’s the wishing star. I pick out one that looks promising and wish long and hard that Daddy will come and get us.
    Even though she has her own bed to sleep in, Anna crawls in with me. Mrs. MacMillan comes in and