Page 82
The man points to the house. “To your rooms, both of you.”
“Where’s Miss Amanda?” I ask, not seeing her anywhere.
“Gone. To your room.”
She already left? But she didn’t even say goodbye. I feel tears welling up inside me. I don’t want to be here. I don’t like this man.
Luca and I walk side by side into the house. He leans close to me, whispering so only I can hear, “Lock your door before you go to sleep.”
The man grabs his arm, pulling him into a small room and closing the door behind them.
He looked so sad. I don’t know why he wanted to get in trouble for being outside when playing in the sandbox wasn’t even his idea.
Shoving my door shut, I look for a lock, only there isn’t one. I find a dollhouse in the closet. One of the walls is cracked and there aren’t any dolls. I pull it into the room, placing it in front of the door, then climb into bed.
I wake up the next morning with my cheeks wet and nose runny. The last girls I lived with teased me for crying in my sleep. I can’t help it. I just miss my mommy so much.
The sun beats down on my face, shining bright in my eyes. I sit up, looking at the door. It’s closed, but the dollhouse isn’t in front of it anymore. It’s lined up against the wall. There’s a beautiful pink and blue dress at the foot of the bed. There’s even a pink bow to clip in my hair.
“Wow!” Mr. Ambrose says when I step into the kitchen. He’s putting eggs on a plate. “You look gorgeous, honey. Give us a spin.”
My cheeks warm. I pick up the bottom of the dress, twirling around in a circle.
“Absolutely gorgeous. Come have some breakfast, princess.”
The food doesn’t taste very good, but I don’t say that. “It isn’t nice to be disrespectful,” my old foster mom had said. “You get what you get and you don’t throw a fit.”
Mr. Ambrose watches me while I eat. It makes me a little uncomfortable because he doesn’t ever look away. Maybe it’s because I did my pigtails so good, and I have the most pretty bow.
When I’ve finished as much as I can eat, I climb down from the chair, ready to sit in the living room to watch cartoons.
“Not so fast, little missy. That plate goes in the sink.”
I pick it up, padding over to the sink and setting my plate inside. I have to stand on the tips of my toes because I can barely reach it. He stands up to put his plate away too.
“That’s right,” Mr. Ambrose tells me, placing his hand over my back. “In this house, good girls behave.” His thumb glides back and forth, brushing under the strap of my dress. It makes my tummy feel nervous.
I turn my head to the living room, seeing Luca watching us from the other side of the couch. I want to watch cartoons with him, so I run from the kitchen, away from Mr. Ambrose. His hand is too big. He looks at me too weirdly.
I pick a spot next to Luca on the floor. We sit crisscross applesauce in front of the TV.
“I’m runnin’ to the store for some smokes. I don’t want either of you leaving this spot. Got it?”
When the door closes, Luca scoots closer to me. “You shouldn’t wear stuff like that,” he tells me, keeping his voice low, like someone might hear us.
“But I like this dress. It’s pretty.”
“That’s why he wants you to have it on.” Luca scratches his arm. It pushes the sleeve of his T-shirt up a little, showing dark bruises.
“Are you okay?” I ask, shoving the sleeve all the way up to see.
He leans back, pulling the shirt down. “You gotta be careful around here.”
I remember how mad Mr. Ambrose was when he found us outside. He followed Luca into his room and grabbed his arm. “Is that because we played in the sandbox?”
“He’s not nice,” Luca says, lowering his head. I lower my head too. I got spanked when I did something bad at my last house. It never left a mark like that. My mommy would never let anyone touch any kid like that.
Luca’s hand falls to my knee. I look up at him, not realizing I started crying. “I won’t let him hurt you,” he whispers. “I promise.”
