Daddy gave Winston to me for my tenth birthday. I asked for a puppy, but Momma said no and refused to budge on her decision. Daddy talked her into getting me a smaller pet. And then came Winston. He’s the best birthday present ever. I even took him to school for show-and-tell once. The entire class loved him.
“Okay, all gone.” I scoop him up from my lap and climb out of bed. “It’s time to go to sleep.”
I slip him inside his cage.
“Nighty night, Winston.” I scratch his head before securing the latch. “I’ll give you more strawberries in the morning.”
Movement near the swimming pool catches my eye, and I peer out the window. Through the downpour, I spot a boy scurrying up the stairs to the tree house Daddy had built for Nolan and me.
“What’s he doing?”
I can’t see his face clearly. Maybe he’s one of Nolan’s friends. They come over a lot, but never this late.
I leave my bedroom and tiptoe downstairs, curious to discover who the boy is. I grab an umbrella, a flashlight, and my bright yellow rain boots from the closet by the front door, then hurry to the kitchen. A creaking noise stops me in my tracks. I hold my breath until all is silent before disabling the alarm and sneaking onto the deck. I quickly make my way to the tree house and cautiously push open the wooden door. It’s pitch black inside. I close the umbrella and prop it against the wall.
“Hello?” I call out, clicking on the flashlight.
I find the boy huddled beside the bookshelf, his knees pulled tight to his chest. He’s got no shoes. His jeans are dirty and have holes all over. His hair is a big, tangled mess. There’s blood under his nose, and his lip is split. Then I look into the prettiest blue eyes I’ve ever seen—both dark purple and swollen, one almost closed shut.
“W-who a-are y-you?” I stutter, tightening my grip on the flashlight.
“My name is Samuel,” he answers, his voice tiny. “But everybody calls me Sam.”
“You’re not supposed to be in here.”
“I just… needed somewhere to hide.”
I warily approach him and sink to my knees in front of him. “From the person who hurt you?”
He nods. “Can I stay here for a while? I won’t be any trouble.”
His voice is barely there. Like if he speaks too loudly, I’ll hit him. “Okay, but you have to leave before morning. My momma will be real mad if she catches you here.”
He blows out a deep breath and slumps forward. “Thank you.”
I look at him for a moment longer. Sam definitely looks like he needs a friend. I can be that. For tonight at least. I point at the television. “You want to watch a movie?”
He shrugs, and that’s all the encouragement I need.
I bounce to my feet and selectThe Avengersbefore plopping down on the futon. Sam stays in the corner like he’s afraid to move.
“Come on.” I wave him over. “There’s plenty of space, silly.”
Sam bites down on his bottom lip, but after a few seconds, he moves to the futon, though on the opposite end. I blink back tears. His shirt is ripped down the middle, revealing scary bruises—big ones, little ones, all different colors. He’s the skinniest person I’ve ever seen. Every rib sticks out. And he’s so pale, I can see his veins. Maybe his momma is mean like mine. I want to talk to him, but I don’t know what to say, so I just keep quiet. Not long into the movie, his stomach rumbles.
“Are you hungry?”
He nods, bowing his head like he’s ashamed. “I haven’t eaten all day.”
“I’ll make you something,” I chirp, standing. “Be right back.”
I dash across the slippery grass and quietly enter the house. After whipping up turkey sandwiches, I gather some other things for Sam, then sneak back to the tree house. He smiles timidly at me. Nervous flutters fill my belly. He’s a cute boy, even though he’s dirty and skinny.
“I have loads of goodies for you.” I sit beside him and hand him a large tote bag. “There are extra sandwiches for later, plus snacks, drinks, clothes, shoes, a first aid kit, and a towel so you can dry off.”
He stares at me like I’m the best person in the whole world. “Thank you for being nice to me,” he says, sadness creeping into his voice. “No one else ever is.”
I want to know everything about him. Why hasn’t he eaten today? Where are his parents? Where does he live? And most importantly, who hurt him, and should the police be called? Asking these questions could scare him away, and I’m not ready for him to go yet.
