Winter Sky by Patricia Reilly Giff

and because she was so afraid he’d set another fire. She was so tired, and how good it felt to let the tears come.
    “You’re rescuing me,” she told Izzy after a few minutes, just able to get the words out.
    Izzy gave her a crooked smile. “You and the cat.”
    Siria reached out to Izzy, smelling the smoke in her hair, seeing the sudden tears in her dark eyes. How would Izzy fit into the make-believe family she and Laila wished for? Maybe an angel. Almost a mother.
    “Your pop is really going to be all right,” Izzy said. “He’s strong and quick. He rolled away from that board—it caught only his side and his leg. It could have been much worse.”
    Siria nodded uncertainly.
    “We’re trained, Siria. We know what we’re doing. You have to believe that. He’ll be home for Christmas. And we’ll celebrate.”
    They hugged again, and then Siria slid out the door. This time she’d remembered her key.
    Izzy rolled down the window. “I’m off tomorrow. Want to go Christmas shopping?”
    “I do,” Siria called back. She went upstairs and tiptoed past Mimi, asleep on the couch.
    She didn’t bother hanging on the door, but snuggled under the quilt, feeling her feet begin to warm. Imagine! Izzy had known all the time.
    “Home for Christmas,” she whispered.
    From the corner of her window, she could see clouds like pillows covering most of the night sky, but here and there was the pale twinkle of a star.
    It was almost as if Mom were looking down at her, telling her not to worry. Pop would be all right. Douglas would stop setting fires. And somehow that poor dog would find food and a place to live.
    She wished she could believe it.

CHAPTER 13
    Orange flames shot out of a window high over Siria’s head. Boards crashed onto the cement below, sending up swirls of dust. “Don’t go up the ladder! Stay with me!” she called. “I don’t want to be alone.”
    Her eyes flew open and she sat up in bed.
    Just a dream. Only a dream.
    No. Not a dream. It had happened: the flames, the ladder, Pop.
    Not a piece of cake after all.
    She made herself think of Izzy.
We know what we’re doing. Home for Christmas
.
    Mimi appeared in her bedroom doorway in her wool bathrobe. “Dear child. I just turned on the radio. Your father was hurt last night.” She leaned over the bed and ran her hand over Siria’s hair.
    “He’s in the hospital,” Siria whispered.
    Poor Mimi, so worried about the two of them, didn’t even ask how Siria knew. “I’m going downstairs to my place for a few things,” Mimi said. “I’ll be back to stay with you for as long as you need me.”
    Siria gave her a quick kiss; then she half slept, dreaming that she and Douglas were down at the creek. Douglas held matches in his hand, laughing.
    She woke with tears on her cheeks. The dream had seemed so real: Douglas with his red hair and that baseball hat, freckles covering his face.
    “How could you!” she whispered.
    The bell rang. It had to be Laila. She always left her finger on the button, listening to the sound of the chimes.
    Siria padded to the door, wiping her face with her pajama sleeve.
    “I saw Mimi in the hall,” Laila said. “She told me about your father. Poor Pop. Poor Siria.”
    “You’re such a good friend, Laila.” Siria could hardly get the words out.
    “A sister,” Laila said.
    “Yes.”
    Laila hesitated. “What are you going to do about Douglas? And the fires?”
    Siria heard the fierceness in her own voice. “I have to watch every minute. If Douglas sets one more fire, I’ll be there to put it out.”
    “Laila?” her mother called from downstairs.
    “Have to go,” Laila said. “Sorry, Siria, so sorry about everything.”
    “And there’s the phone.” Siria went into the living room. Sun streamed in the window and rivers of melting snow slid down the pane. She glanced at the clock, half the morning gone. She picked up the phone.
    “How’s my star girl?” Pop! Sounding almost normal, even happy.
    “Are you