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sounded within her.
Don’t do that
. It was Cecily’srule about not saying anything to anybody; Mel was to keep quiet and not share any information about herself or Cecily, about where they were living, what she had or didn’t have for breakfast, or why she often arrived at school in clothes that were too small or miles too big. “Involve people, and before you know it, you’ll be in foster care.” That’s what Cecily had said, and Mel knew from experience that sharing too much could cause a lot of trouble.
    “Now, I’m inclined to mind my own business,” Rose said, “but I’m starting to worry that you are on your own.”
    “My mom’s at work,” Mel answered, looking down at her feet. She knew Rose wasn’t the kind of woman you could look at and lie to.
    “Well, then I guess it would be okay for you to come on back to the kitchen,” Rose said, “until your mom’s finished working.”
    “But the kitchen is closed.”
    “I bake on Saturdays.”
    “Actually, I can’t. I need to go back home. I’m meeting my mom for lunch.”
    “Can I give you a lift?” Rose asked.
    “No. Thanks. It’s not far,” Mel said, glancing in the distance as if looking for her house in the myriad of buildings. “It’s just over there a few blocks.”
    “Well, I’ll be at the kitchen most of the day,” Rose said. “Just knock on the back door and I’ll let you in.”
    Mel nodded.
    “I’ll give you one of my fresh cinnamon buns,” Rose said.
    “Okay,” Mel said. “I will.”
    “And I’ll bet Fearless will be stopping by also,” Rose added, giving yet another reason to come by.
    Mel watched as Rose hiked back across the road, climbed into her van, and drove away. Everything about the way Rose spoke said one thing: she knew something was up.
    Mel walked back to the overpass. Still no sign of Cecily. She crawled up into the small cave-like space where she’d spent the night before, and she stuffed a couple of dry shirts into a T-shirt, fashioning a pillow, and then wrapped herself up in the blanket. Her stomach wanted a cinnamon bun, but her body wanted sleep. It was easier to sleep in the day – especially in her little spot, her back tight against the wall, head resting on the makeshift pillow. She was warm.

10
The Strangers
    It was almost dark when the strangers showed up. Their voices echoed through the pillars and woke Mel from her sleep.
    “Well,” one of the voices said, shining a light in Mel’s general direction, “this must be the place, but I don’t see a Pinto wagon and I don’t see any sign of a kid.”
    “If she was here earlier, she’s gone now,” another voice said.
    Then a familiar voice spoke. “Mel, it’s Rose. Are you out there?”
    Mel stole a peek at them from her spot. She could have tucked her head back in after she spotted Rose, but she didn’t.
    “My living, loving God, girl,” Rose said as she caught sight of Mel and walked toward her. The other two followed.
    Mel looked at the strangers. One was definitely a police officer. He reached out his hand; Mel kept herstucked in her blanket.
    “I’m Constable Hill and this is Ms. Jeffery,” he said, gesturing to the woman who stood beside him. “She’s a social worker, and I gather you know Rose.”
    Mel nodded.
    “You’ll need to come with us, Miss Tulley,” said the officer.
    “I can’t. I’m waiting for my mom.”
    “Mel,” Rose said, “your mom’s in jail. She was picked up last night. She’d been drinking, and – I don’t know – they’re saying something happened with a store clerk. She may have been caught shoplifting.”
    As the words found their place in the cool night air, Mel accepted that she’d known this truth all along, but that she had tried to keep from thinking about it.
    “These people are going to take you to your grandmother’s.”
    Mel didn’t respond. Instead, she pushed down all the sadness rising inside her.
    Rose lifted her hands, palms up, and scanned the emptiness under the