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new boyfriend. What next?
    Bang! Bang! Bang!
    “Mrs. Marsh, this is the police. Could you open the door, please?”
    It started like it always did. Them knocking on the door and sounding polite. Mom’s eyes opening wide, then narrowing to slits when she realized who it was.
    “Get in the bedroom,” she hissed at Allie, as she shoved the empty whiskey bottle under the couch. “And keep your mouth shut.”
    “What do you want?” Allie’s mom yelled at the door. “We haven’t done nothing wrong.”
    “We just need to speak to you, Mrs. Marsh. Your kids have been reported missing. Open the door, please.”
    Like always, the cop’s voice was getting a little gruffer. Like he knew this was going to get ugly.
    Allie hurried back to their room and crawled into bed between the twins, who were now wide awake and shaking.
    Luke touched the tear on Allie’s cheek. “Ouch?” he asked.
    “It’s okay,” Allie whispered, “but please stay quiet, Luke.”
    Smash! Like always, their mom was throwing glasses and bottles at the locked door. “Get lost,” she screamed. “They’re mine.”
    The apartment door was about to be kicked in by policeman. Again. It was amazing they hadn’t been evicted.
    Allie rolled onto her side and pulled up her knees so Madeleine could squish into the nook between her legs and chest. Luke took his usual position, cuddled up against Allie’s back with his arms wrapped around her belly.
    Crack! Allie winced as the cheap wooden door split open.
    Yep. Another door wrecked. All the usual sounds after that—more smashing glasses, more screaming, the cops with their booming voices telling Allie’s mom to settle down.
    Madeleine and Luke stayed still. Frozen. Allie could feel Luke gripping her shirt. And Madeleine had squished herself so tightly against Allie that it was hard to breathe.
    They stayed in their cocoon as the yelling went on—must have been about 10 minutes, but it felt like a year.
    Suddenly, the door to their room flew open.
    “Get up!” Allie’s mom yelled. “They’re taking you away, again.”
    Allie lifted her head and peered over the covers. There was Mom—hair all over the place, clothes wrecked from sleeping in them (probably for days). And behind her...
    “Is that Buddy?” Luke whispered, as he peeked over Allie’s shoulder.
    It was. Buddy, the policeman who’d dropped them off just a few hours ago, was standing in their apartment.
    “Hi, cookie fans,” Buddy said, smiling sadly. “They told me to get you out of here for a bit. ‘Till your mom’s feeling better.”
    “I’m feeling just fine,” their mom muttered, as she staggered down the hall. Allie cringed—couldn’t she at least try to act sober?
    “Come on, guys.” Buddy held out his hand. “Your foster mom’s worried sick about you.”
    Allie coaxed the twins out of bed. When their mom was like this, Allie had to be careful to not startle them or they’d panic and run. She wrapped an arm around each twin and guided them down the hall.
    Two more police officers were waiting in the living room. The stupid boyfriend was still passed out on the couch. Nice. Couldn’t even wake up long enough to help. What good would he be in a real disaster, like a fire or something?
    Allie helped the twins put on their shoes and guided them out into the hall.
    “You’re really good with them,” Buddy said.
    “What’s that supposed to mean?” All those stupid cracks about being parentified were really getting on Allie’s nerves.
    Buddy stared. “It means you’re really good with them,” he said, quietly.
    Allie felt another twinge. He hadn’t done anything wrong. Still, she couldn’t help but hate him. If he hadn’t shown up, she’d still have a normal family. Okay, not normal like her mom was actually sober, or made meals, or vacuumed, or even noticed whether they were home or not. But she’d be living with her own mom—not with someone who was being paid to take care of them. Allie turned and