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Internet. No e-mail or Facebook or texting my friends. No computer solitaire when I got bored. Even worse, Sophie had no dad. I missed my dad a lot when he worked out of town, but his absence was temporary. He called or e-mailed often, and I always knew he’d be home at the end of the week. Two weeks at the most. Dad wasn’t ever gone the way Sophie had said the word, as if she knew her father would never be back.
    I thought about what it would be like to live with the threat that I might have to move whether I wanted to or not—to leave my home, my friends, my school, or even my country. Most of all, I thought how it would feel to have no food except what strangers brought to the door.

CHAPTER FOUR
    M om got home about an hour after I did, bringing another batch of contest entries. While she changed into comfy clothes, I riffled quickly through the stack of entries.
    If I saw an envelope that looked like Sophie’s handwriting, I intended to remove it, but none of the envelopes were similar to the one that had come earlier. The thank-you letter must not have arrived yet, or maybe I had gotten lucky and Mrs. Murphy had opened it. She would assume that Help Your Neighbor had provided food for Sophie’s family even though their funds are low.
    I wandered into the kitchen and opened the fridge. To my surprise I had not missed my usual snacks, but I hadn’t eaten since lunch and now I was starving. I was staring into the depths, hoping a chocolate mousse would miraculously appear on the shelf, when Mom came in.
    â€œDon’t stand with the door open,” she said.
    â€œI’m hungry. What’s for dinner?”
    â€œHow about an explanation?”
    â€œWhat?” I closed the fridge and turned to look at her.
    â€œI understand you got a ride home from school today.”
    â€œHow did you know that?”
    â€œI saw Mrs. Braider outside when I picked up the mail.”
    That figures, I thought. Leave it to Big Mouth Braider to notice how I got home, and tattle on me.
    â€œWho was your chauffeur?” Mom asked.
    â€œJelly Bean’s brother, Chance, drove me home,” I said. “Jelly Bean and I were working on our community service project after school and I missed the bus, so when his brother picked him up, they offered me a ride.”
    I thought it sounded like a great excuse and, even though it wasn’t the whole story, everything I said was true.
    Mom frowned. “You’ve been riding around with some teenager I know nothing about?”
    â€œChance has his driver’s license,” I said. “His parents knew he had the car and he had permission to take Jelly Bean home after school.”
    â€œThat may be so, but you did not have permission to go anywhere with him. How do I know he’s a good driver? Just because he has his license doesn’t mean he’s someone you should be riding with. I’ve never met this boy or his parents. Honestly, Emmy, I thought you had better sense.”
    â€œI’m here,” I pointed out. “He brought me home safely, didn’t he?”
    â€œThat’s not the issue,” Mom said. “You are not to accept a ride from someone I’ve never met.”
    â€œWhat if it had been Jelly Bean’s mom? You’ve never met her, either. Would you be angry if she had driven me home?”
    Mom rolled her eyes, as if I were being totally unreasonable.
    â€œYou’re treating me like a baby,” I said.
    The phone rang, and I reached for it, glad for the interruption. I talked to Dad for a few minutes and then handed the phone to Mom. To my relief, she didn’t tell him about Big Mouth Braider’s report. While they talked, I decided to redeem myself by making a salad, warming up some leftover lasagna, and setting the table. By the time Mom got off the phone, dinner was ready.
    We had finished eating when the phone rang again.
    â€œHello?”
    â€œEmmy? Are you okay?”