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have his name already. I was wondering about other family members.”
    â€œFamily?” Arlo repeated blankly.
    â€œYou know. Uncles? Aunts? Cousins?” Miss Hasslebarger leaned forward over the desk.
    Arlo shook his head.
    â€œDoes that mean you don’t know who they are?”
    â€œNo, ma’am. It means, I don’t have any.”
    â€œNo one?”
    â€œNot really. Not around here, anyway.”
    Arlo watched her draw quick straight lines across the blanks on the form.
    â€œExcept a grandmother.”
    Her hand stopped in midair. She shifted forward, causing the chair to make a loud squeal.
    â€œHer name is Ida Jones,” he said.
    â€œSo she’s on your father’s side of the family, then?”
    â€œThat’s right.”
    â€œAnd do you know where she lives?”
    â€œEdgewater,” Arlo said, relieved to have at least one solid piece of information Miss Hasslebarger could write on her form.
    â€œEdge — what?”
    â€œWater.”
    â€œWhere is that?”
    â€œVirginia.”
    â€œOK. Good. Now we’re getting somewhere, aren’t we?”
    Arlo nodded.
    â€œYou have her address?”
    â€œNo, ma’am.”
    â€œA phone number?”
    â€œNot that I know of.”
    â€œThat you know of?”
    â€œIt’s just that we haven’t called her for a long time.”
    â€œA long time?” Miss Hasslebarger kept her eyes on the form, but Arlo could see her eyebrows arching.
    â€œHow long?” she asked.
    â€œPretty long, I guess.”
    â€œI see.” She put down her pen. “There’s a little more to this story, isn’t there?”
    Arlo shrugged.
    â€œOK, Arlo. You don’t have to share family secrets with me. Like I said, I’m here to help you. But, tell me this . . . if you can. There isn’t any reason you’re afraid of your grandmother Jones, is there?”
    â€œOh, no, ma’am. I haven’t even seen her since . . .”
    Miss Hasslebarger locked eyes with him. “Since?” she repeated.
    Arlo tried to speak, but his throat closed up on him. “Couldn’t I just stay here in the hospital?”
    Miss Hasslebarger jotted a few more notes on the form and then closed the file. “For an hour or two, yes. Of course. But I can’t very well leave you in the waiting room for days on end.”
    â€œBut Poppo’s going to be all right.”
    â€œWe hope so, yes. But until then . . .”
    â€œI can stay here. I mean, during the day. At night, I’ll go home.”
    Miss Hasslebarger sighed. It was a long outpouring, as though she were trying to convey how much she regretted what she needed to say. “That’s just it, Arlo. With a stroke, there’s no way of knowing how long recovery will take.” She looked at him a moment. “How old is your grandfather?”
    â€œSeventy-nine.”
    â€œAnd you are?”
    â€œEleven.”
    â€œExactly.” Miss Hasslebarger moved her head up and down sadly. “There’s a good chance you’ll have to make some changes.”
    â€œWhat kind of changes?”
    â€œMr. Sabatini is a bit old to be your primary caretaker.”
    Arlo’s stomach tightened. Why did everybody keep saying that? “He goes to all my ball games and he makes sure I do my homework and takes me fishing.”
OK. So, they hadn’t been fishing in over a year, but still. . . .
    The more Arlo talked, the more pained the expression on Miss Hasslebarger’s face became.
    â€œHe probably won’t be able to drive for a long time, maybe never, and . . .”
    â€œThat’s OK,” Arlo said. “I walk to school. And we buy lots of our food at Fanucci’s. It’s this little market right down the street. . . .”
    â€œYes. Fanucci’s. I read about it in the police report.”
    A clammy feeling seeped into Arlo’s stomach, as if he had stepped into a dark tunnel