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even too strange for me.
    Did she really believe Charles would rush to her room when he had a chance with Grace?
    He left re
lu
ctantly.
    “Finally,” Grace said to me.
    “He’s cute.”
    “Too short. Besides, I’m not worried about him.” She shoved her cell phone into my hand. “I wanted to show you this.”
    I gazed down at it and saw a pretty blond girl about our age smiling up at me. She wore a flimsy b
lu
e velvet top that dipped off her right shoulder.
    “Felicia?” I asked.
    Grace nodded. “Isn’t she beautiful?”
    “What made her run away from home?”
    The moment I asked, I knew I shouldn’t have.
    “I’m sorry, but how is that any of your business? I just wanted to show you her picture.”
    “I understand.” I got up from the table, embarrassed that I had tried to probe so c
lu
msily into her life. “I thought you might want to talk, that’s all.”
    “I just wanted you to see her, okay?” She stood as well. “And now I should go meet Charles, if only to show Emily who runs the world.”
    “Have fun.” She looked away from me. I stepped around her so that she had to see my eyes. “You should probably stay in my room tonight.”
    She shook her head and continued to avoid eye contact. “I like my privacy.”
    “I like mine, too, but I’m worried, Grace.”
    “I already have a mother,” she said in that snob-girl voice she’d used on Emily.
    “Oh, really? Where was she when you were bawling this morning?”
    “I can’t deal with this, Livia . I told you not to push.”
    “And I told you I’m worried. You banged on my door soaking wet and cold as a freakin ’ corpse.”
    “Charming comparison.” She pulled the hat down over her head. “I can’t argue with you right now. I promised to meet Charles.”
    “I get it,” I said. “Meet him. Have fun. But tonight, don’t stay by yourself, please. Don’t be alone when you dream.”
    “That’s ridiculous, and so are you.”
    “You know I’m not,” I told her. “I’ll leave the door unlocked.”
    “Don’t bother. I’m not coming.”
    I’d leave the door unlocked anyway.
     
     

 
    CHAPTER 8
     
     
    Ms. Gates came in right after Grace had left. With her long, dark hair pulled back into a ponytail and her jeans and tee, she could have been our age.
    Johnny moved next to me at the table.
    “Are you two related?” he asked me. “You could be sisters.”
    I had heard that before, from kids who liked me and from those who thought that Ms. Gates, by refusing to treat me like a freak, favored me.
    Maybe she did. Maybe she just felt sorry for me because she had also been raised in foster homes. Her dark eyes had the same shape as my b
lu
e ones, and although we were both short and slender, our posture was straight and, to me, at least, proud.
    “What were you saying, Johnny?” She sat down beside me at the table with her mug of coffee.
    “I was asking Livia if you were related to her.”
    “Only in spirit.” She smiled at me.
    “Spirit is as good as blood,” I said. “Sometimes, better.” I did love this teacher, and I wondered if she had any idea how much she had saved me from what might have happened to my life without her.
    The weather was even worse, so we spent the day at the hotel trying to find out more about the storm and how long it would last. Every cell phone was dead, and so was the one television.
    “What about the cruise ship?” Johnny asked. “Isn’t it supposed to arrive today?”
    She shook her head. “I’m sorry. I just don’t know.”
    Daniel, wearing the same navy pea coat and watch cap, found us in the late afternoon. He drove a cart up the hill, joined us in the main room, and, after hesitating for a moment, took the cup of coffee Ms. Gates offered him.
    Once he was seated at the table, with all of us gathered around him, he said, “I wish I had better news, but I didn’t see your boat at Two Harbors.”
    “What does that mean?” Ms. Gates asked.
    “Maybe nothing,” he said.