“For fuck’s sake,” Jayden said. “So we’re going toabandonthe mission?”
Everyone ignored Jayden’s outburst. Daniel and I followed Cass to the stairs with Aimee close behind me. When I looked back, Hana, Omar, Carson, and a bunch of others I didn’t know very well were heading to the stairs as well, saying they wanted to join the search party, too. I didn’t see Jayden’s expression as his quest went up in dust. And I didn’t care that I wouldn’t find out who LostAxis was now. None of that mattered.
We needed to find Yasmin. Now.
24
Tea and Hugs
Daniel and I sat in the back seat of Cass’s car on the way to the shelter. Aimee was in the front passenger seat. Daniel looked so upset—eyebrows furrowed. Normally smiling mouth in a straight line. I needed to stay close to him. I wished there were something more I could do.
When we got to the shelter, Andre was in the front lobby talking to a police officer with four men I didn’t recognize. He held a bunch of flashlights.
Faduma, Yasmin’s mother, was in the common room with some other women from the shelter, along with her two oldest children. She called out to me, so I went to her. She was wearing a black hijab tonight, with a sweatshirt and long brown skirt. I’d had a few chats with her in the last few weeks and met her older children. I liked them all.
“Ah, Samaya.” Faduma reached out and took my hand. She’d clearly been crying but smiled faintly at me. “Yasmin loves you so much. Thank you for being her friend.”
I nodded and sat next to her on the couch. “Of course. I’m sure we’ll find her. Did she tell you where she was going?”
Faduma shook her head. “No, but I know. She wanted to look for fairies. That girl and her imagination. She will be a storyteller one day, eh, Shanta?” she said to one of the other women, who nodded.
Muniba came into the common room. “Oh good, you’re here, Samaya. I was about to make tea for the residents. They’re all so worried. Are you going with the others to search the forest?”
Faduma was still holding my hand. “You stay with us,” she said, squeezing. “Daniel will find her.”
I agreed to stay behind to help support Yasmin’s mother. I was worried about going out into the forest with my tree allergies anyway. I excused myself to say goodbye to Daniel.
“You’ll be okay?” I asked after telling him I was going to stay behind with the mothers.
He nodded, then leaned down and kissed me on the cheek. “I’m sorry your night was ruined.”
I shook my head and squeezed Daniel’s hand. “Go find her.”
It was weirdly quiet in the shelter after the search party left. Muniba and I went to the kitchen, and she put a big pot of water on to boil.
“I’ll make masala chai as well as the regular stuff,” she said. “The residents always say my proper chai is the most soothing thing in the world. Put out some of the treats you made earlier, too. We can spare some.”
I took a big serving tray and started filling it with teacups. And I grabbed a plate of the iced sugar cookies Daniel and I had made earlier that evening. That seemed like so long ago, now. My heart clenched as I put the cookies on a plate. These were Yasmin’s favorite.
I brought the tea and cookies out to the common room.
“You know,” Faduma said when I handed her a mug, “Yasmin told me that she wants to be like you and make her own fairy game one day. You’ve made a big impact on her.”
“She’s my favorite,” I said. I really didn’t know what else to say. “She is a special kid. I hope they find her safe and sound.”
She nodded, then touched her hand to her chest. “My girl is strong.” She looked into my eyes. “But, my dear, if you are a praying type, please say a prayer for her.”
I nodded and said a silent prayer as I handed out the tea. I wasn’t very religious, but I wanted to do everything that might help. When I took the tray back to the kitchen, I found Muniba vigorously cleaning the counters. She smiled sadly at me. “I clean when I’m stressed.”
“I practice pi. I think your habit is more productive.” I took a sponge and started cleaning the pot we’d made the chai in, reciting the digits of pi in my head as I scrubbed.
“You know,” Muniba said after a few minutes of silent cleaning, “I’ve worked here for seven years now, and I’ve never lost a child that young.”
“They’ll find her.”
She nodded and turned back to the counter. “Families that end up here are often at the tail end of their hope. We try to make it welcoming for kids of all ages, but there is only so much we can do.” She sighed. “I doubt anyone looks back at their time here with fond memories.”
“I know Yasmin loves you,” I said. “I think she feels welcomed here.”
