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caterpillar. I’m telling you.”
    But Doug would not be drawn in. “Chance is meeting us in the kitchen,” he said to his son. “You go ahead.”
    So Mark was forced to lead the way. And Chance was able to put Matilda back behind the curtain before making his own way slowly downstairs.

Chapter 11
    Mark was so angry that Doug got annoyed with him and sent him away. “Yes, I’ve seen the mark on your chest, son,” he said. “I agree that there’s no excuse for that, but I still want to hear Chance’s side of the story. Off you go, so Chance and I can talk together quietly.”
    Mark stamped his way out of the kitchen, but he didn’t say a word in argument. Chance should have sensed danger. But he was worrying instead. Worrying about being sent away. These are keeper foster parents, he repeated to himself. Still, keeper or no, a foster parent was not the same as a real parent.
    Chance kicked at his chair leg and kept his eyes on the table. It was that hard plastic stuff, and it had lots of interesting cracks, stains and scratches. Doug talked on and on in his gentle voice, and the words floated away, up, up and away. Like balloons, Chance thought.
    Finally Doug reached out and gripped Chance’s shoulder.
    Like son, like father, Chance thought, but he stopped kicking.
    â€œLook at me,” Doug said, sharply now. Chance looked but gave another kick at the same time.
    â€œWe do not accept violence in this house,” Doug said. “Neither you nor Mark is permitted to hurt the other in any way. Is that understood?”
    In answer, Chance wiggled his shoulder, still in Doug’s grip. He wasn’t holding on hard, but it hurt because of Mark’s earlier attack.
    Doug let go. Chance nodded his head once.
    â€œAll right. If you refuse to tell me your side of the story, you’d best be off.”
    And Chance was off, in an instant. Out the door, into the hall and up the stairs. As he neared the top, fear entered his heart. He could hear music from Mark’s room. His door was closed. Chance headed for his own room, but he already knew what he would find.
    His own door, carefully shut behind him when he went downstairs, stood open. From the doorway, he could see that the curtain had been pulled back.
    The windowsill was bare.
    Matilda was gone.

Chapter 12
    At least Mark’s door wasn’t locked. Chance opened it as quietly as he could.
    Mark was sitting at his desk, hunched over something. Chance didn’t have to see it to know what it would be.
    â€œGive her back,” he hissed. He did not want Doug to come upstairs to investigate.
    Mark looked up. “It’s dying,” he said.
    â€œMatilda’s not an it. She’s a she. And what do you mean? What have you done to her?”
    â€œIt. She. Doesn’t make much difference now. You starved her to death, Chance,” Mark said.
    â€œNo, I didn’t. I gave her leaves, real leaves. Way better than that goop at school.”
    â€œBut that goop is made out of stuff that caterpillars like. I don’t know what these ones are, but anyone with any brains could see that they’re too thick and hard for a caterpillar to eat. Anyway, she’s not eating them.”
    Chance had walked close enough to see Matilda where she was curled up now, in Mark’s palm. He didn’t try to take her back. He just stood.
    He had thought that he had known everything about painted ladies. Everything. Except for the one thing he needed to know to keep Matilda alive, to let her become a butterfly. She was lying there starving, and it was his fault.
    â€œShe can’t die, Mark, she can’t. There must be some kind of leaves she likes. You have to help me.”
    â€œIt’s a little late for that,” Mark said, chewing on the side of his thumb as he spoke. Then he was quiet for a long time.
    Chance burst into the silence, “I’m taking her back to school tomorrow.