The child protection worker’s voice floats into the room. “So one of them over at Egret and the other at Milbray? If that’s all that’s available, then it will have to do. I’ll take the boy to Egret now, and the girl over to Milbray when she’s discharged. Okay. Yes, I’ll be back in the office soon. Save me some of that birthday cake.” She ends the phone call with a cheery laugh and tells her coworker goodbye.
I meet Damiano’s stare.
Different facilities.
We’ll never see each other again.
My heart pounds so hard I can hear it in my ears. After everything that’s happened in the last few days, it’s this that threatens to shatter me completely. I’m going to be alone again.This boy who held my hand and saved my life and sat by my hospital bed all night is going to disappear like everyone else.
Damiano’s face has gone very still. Very pale. His eyes are fixed on the curtain where Ms. Mills disappeared.
Ms. Mills replaces her smile with a sympathetic expression as she comes back to my bedside and takes some papers out of her bag. She addresses Damiano. “All right, let’s get started on this paperwork. What’s your name and date of birth?”
I listen as he replies. His name is Damiano Julian Lamberti. His birthday is July 12, and his birth year makes him two years older than me.
“Only twelve and already quite the young man,” Ms. Mills says in an overfriendly kind of way.
Damiano glares stonily back at her.
Her smile fades as she turns to me. “What’s your name, honey?”
From the other side of the bed, Damiano looks at me. Really looks at me, and his eyes are desperate. This is the last time we’re going to see each other. As soon as that form is filled out, she’ll take Damiano away. I’ll be all alone again, just like that dog at the gas station, waiting and waiting for someone who’s never coming back.
I swallow down my tears, but I have to swallow so hard that my throat aches. “Lucy Cinders,” I start to say, but Damiano’s voice cuts across mine.
“Lucy Lamberti.”
His voice is louder and faster than mine, drowning me out. Ms. Mills’s pen stops moving. She looks up at him, confused.
“Her real name is Liliana, but she goes by Lucy. She’s my sister.”
Ms. Mills nods slowly and notes that down. She doesn’t question it. Why would she? We have the same curly hair anddark eyes. We were at the same place. We’re clearly traumatized children who need help, not questions.
I stare at Damiano in shock. My mouth opens but no sound comes out.
He catches my eyes briefly and widens his, urging me silently to play along. He’s made a choice, and he’s asking me to trust him.
Has he gone crazy? Why is he pretending I’m his dead sister?
“Dad took us to that house and left us outside while he went in to take drugs,” Damiano explains to Ms. Mills. His voice is steady now, confident. He’s committed to this lie. “We were down by the creek when the whole place exploded. Dad was inside. Lucy’s date of birth is August 4. She’s ten. Born two years after me.”
My birthday is May 23. Damiano must be telling Ms. Mills his sister’s birthday. He speaks in a determined rush, staring hard at the CPS worker as she scribbles down his sister’s information on my form. He flicks glances at me, silently begging me not to contradict him.
I’m too shocked to speak. My heart is racing. What is he doing?
“It’s very sad what happened to your father,” the CPS worker remarks blandly as she checks over her paperwork, marking the page here and there. She looks up at him with a brisk smile. “All right, Damiano. There isn’t enough room for you both to go to the same facility, and Lucy needs to stay in the hospital for a while longer. I’m going to take you to—”
Damiano’s hand tightens on mine until it almost hurts. He interrupts her, his brown eyes flashing with defiance. “No.”
Ms. Mills blinks. “I’m sorry?”
“I’m not going anywhere without Lucy.” His voice rings with absolute certainty.
Ms. Mills opens her mouth, probably to explain how the system works, how he doesn’t have a choice. But Damiano is fierce and protective and utterly unmovable.
“She’s my sister,” he says. “We stay together.”
I stare at this twelve-year-old boy who just lost everything, who’s covered in bandages and ash, and who’s claiming a stranger as family to keep her from being alone. He’s saving me. Just like he saved me from the explosion.
