This Raging Light by Estelle Laure Page B

the system isn’t so bad,” Eden says.
    â€œIt must be nice in the land of ponies and rainbows,” Digby says. “The fairies and the leprechauns are such a treat.”
    â€œShut up,” Eden says.
    â€œNo, really, when you and the last unicorn land back on earth, let me know.”
    â€œPeople are good,” she says, “sometimes.”
    â€œNo,” Digby says. “People have good
intentions.
Those are two totally different things. Someone is going to walk in here, and you know what they’re going to see? Two abandoned girls, a dad put away—no offense, Lucille—one girl working in next to nothing—no offense, Lucille—to pay the bills, the house falling apart . . .” He looks at me.
    â€œNone taken,” I say.
    â€œNo social worker is going to leave things the way they are.” He leans against the porch railing. So close to me. “So she can’t tell anyone.”
    â€œEven though she turns eighteen in July?” Eden says.
    Digby gives her a look.
    She turns to me. “Lu, have you thought about maybe contacting your dad?”
    I don’t know how to say that I don’t know where he is, that I couldn’t get in touch with him even if I wanted to.
    â€œI’ll do it,” Digby says, after he watches my face for a minute. “Basketball season hasn’t started yet. I can watch Wren for you for a bit.”
    I almost fall over.
    â€œBut your mom . . .”
    â€œI’m out with Elaine almost every night anyway.” I try not to let that sting. “And she has some big debate thing coming up, so she’s busy. I’ll tell her. She’ll cover for me, and my mom will never know the difference. It’ll be fine.”
    â€œAin’t you a sweetheart?” Eden smirks.
    â€œWell what, Eden?” He takes off his hat. Puts it back on. “You want me to sit here and do nothing while Lucille and Wren get thrown into the street? You think anyone is going to give her a break? They might get separated, or have to live in some juvenile center. I can help. So let me help, and don’t give me a hard time.”
    â€œOkay,” Eden says, tucking her knees underneath her bony butt. “It’s a little more time, Lu, like he said. But it’s just a Band-Aid. You have to figure something out. Something permanent, if she’s really not coming back.”
    My bare legs are starting to goose.
    â€œWhich brings me to the good news,” Eden says.
    She throws open the door.
    â€œSuch flourish,” Digby says.
    â€œCome in the kitchen.”
    We stumble past sleeping Wren in a line. Digby ducks a little as we pass through the doorway. All the cabinets are open. They are full. Every kind of rice, soup, canned vegetables, couscous, barley, box after box of pasta. Cereals line up neatly across the top shelf. Granola, oatmeal, and on and on.
    â€œHoly crow,” I say. “Thank you.”
    â€œWhat?” They say it in unison. Very twin.
    â€œYou guys did this, right?”
    â€œNo!” Again, unison.
    â€œWell then, who did?”
    â€œJust take it, Lu,” Eden says. “Gift horse. Mouth.” Looks to Digby. “Right?”
    â€œThis is good news?” Digby says. “Eden, think for a minute. Think about what this means.”
    â€œIt means the cabinets are full. And, tah-dah! That’s not all.” Eden pulls on the refrigerator door. “This.”
    The fridge is full too. I mean really, extra full. So is the freezer. Vegetables, fruit, yogurt for days and weeks, sour cream, cheese, tortillas, and ice cream, chicken nuggets, meat and fish, eggs, juice, and even some bubbly water. I have never, ever in my life seen anything like it.
    â€œIt’s awesome, right?” Eden says.
    â€œDo you not see?” Digby says. “This means someone knows. Someone who doesn’t want you to know they know. It’s weird.”
    â€œQuit