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Allie took a deep breath and willed her hands to stop shaking. She’d stayed up way too late reading. She’d taken a book on first aid, one about decorating homes on a budget, and a novel called
Little Women
. And she’d read them all. She was a fast reader, but it still took her until 4 o’clock in the morning to finish. Then Madeleine had prodded her awake at 6. Now she was dragging herself through what felt like the longest day of her life. She was tired. Really
really
tired.

And that wasn’t the worst of it. They had to be at Stone’s office by dinnertime to see their mom. Problem was, Mom was, well,
Mom
. Allie didn’t know if she’d be sober and chatty. Or drunk and snarly. Or something in the middle.

And whatever state she was in, the workers would be recording it all. With some families, social workers actually recorded the visits so they’d have proof of how crappy the parents were. So they could show the DVDs to a judge. Allie’s family was one of those families.

Allie stifled a yawn and tried—again—to stop her hands from shaking. She
had
to pretend everything was okay, so Luke and Madeleine would stay happy and calm. Otherwise, the whole evening would be a mess.

“Stand still, Madeleine, I’m almost done.” Allie stuck the comb in her mouth and grabbed more bobby pins. She was trying to tame Madeleine’s long, scraggly hair so it would look pretty for their visit.

“I don’t want a bench braid. I hate them.” Madeleine tried to sneak away, but Allie pulled the squirmy kid right back.

“It’s called a
French
braid, and it’s going to look beautiful,” Allie said, as she pulled the comb out of her mouth. “Now stand still so I can get it done.”

Gales of laughter told Allie that Luke was no longer where she’d left him. “Luke! Get back in the tub!” she yelled.

“I’m not Luke,” Luke said, as he tiptoed past Allie and Madeleine. “I’m Bubble Boy.”

And he was. Luke had piled heaps of bubbles on his head, and had used them like undies to cover his private parts. He was tiptoeing through the kitchen toward the back door, trying to hang onto handfuls of bubbles so they wouldn’t slip down his legs and expose him.

Allie finished the braid a lot faster than she’d intended. It ended up quite crooked at the bottom. But she caught Luke before he made it out the door.

‘You need to get dressed,” Allie said. “
One
shirt,
one
pair of pants,
one
pair of undies.”

“And
one
sock!” Luke grinned, as he raced up the stairs, leaving gobs of bubbles behind him.

JoJo came out of the living room and put her empty cup in the sink. “Almost ready to go?”

“Almost, yes.” Allie glanced up the stairs as she straightened her shirt and ran her hands through her hair. Again.

“You look good, Allie, stop worrying.” JoJo smiled sadly.

When they pulled into the huge parking lot, JoJo looked around.

“Do you see your mom’s car?”

Allie scowled. “We don’t have a car. And you don’t need one to be a good parent.”

“True,” JoJo said, with a smirk. “
You
don’t have one, and
you’re
a good parent.”

In the back seat, Luke poked Madeleine in the ribs. “That was funny,” he said. “JoJo made a joke joke!”

Madeleine poked Luke right back. “Ha! So did you!”

Allie turned around to glare at Luke, but he flashed her his big, toothy smile. Allie shook her head and grinned. It was hard to stay mad at Luke.

The Child Protective Services office was in the courthouse. The same building where judges decided if parents were going to lose their kids forever. It was like they wanted to totally wreck families, but didn’t want to walk too far to do it.

As Allie pulled the heavy glass door open, she got a weird, queasy, butterfly feeling in the pit of her stomach. It was the same feeling she got at the dentist’s office, but it was a lot stronger, here—strong enough to make her a little lightheaded.

Walking down the long, dingy hall didn’t help, either. Every step echoed as it bounced off the paneled walls and the pictures of old, grumpy judges.

“Mommy!” Luke burst through the door into a brightly lit office. There she was, sitting in the waiting room holding a huge brown paper bag bulging with stuff. And it wasn’t one of those bags from the liquor store, either. She’d gone to a grocery store!

Their mom smiled, stood up and held out her arms. Relief flooded through Allie as the twins ran to her for a hug. She squeezed them for a long time, tears streaming down her face. Finally, she looked up at Allie.

“I’m really sorry about the last time you were home. I wasn’t expecting you, you know?”

“That’s okay.” Allie threw her arms around her mom and breathed in deeply, smelling the familiar odors—dust, coffee and smokes. It smelled like home.

“If you’ll follow me.” It was Stone, wearing her fake smile and pointing toward one of the visiting rooms. No doubt they already had their hidden cameras rolling, but that was okay. Mom was sober, happy and doing everything right.

“I brought you dinner,” their mom said, as she walked in and plunked herself down on the big, puffy couch. “Here.”

Chocolate bars, cookies, donuts...A sugary feast scattered across the coffee table. Luke and Madeleine went nuts, stuffing as much as they could into their little mouths. Allie nibbled one chocolate bar and tried—really tried—to get them to slow down. But they wouldn’t. They ate like wolverines. It was embarrassing—and Stone was watching.

“Ms. Marsh, we asked you to show us that you could feed your children properly,” she said, in her prissiest voice. “We meant healthy food, like sandwiches and fruit. Not
this
sort of thing.”

Their mom sat up and glared. “I’ll feed them whatever the hell I want. It’s none of your business.”

“Mom, please...” Allie’s heart sank.

“You wanted me sober, and I’m sober. But that’s not good enough for you, is it?”

Allie dug her nails into her palms until they throbbed. “Mom, plea...”

“Now, you’ve gotta wreck their one meal with me, don’t you? Well, fine.” She grabbed big handfuls of cookies and chips and started throwing them at the garbage can in the corner. Food bounced off the walls and off the chairs. Most of it landed on the floor.

“Mom...” Allie felt sick.

Madeleine tried to grab one last chocolate bar before their mom could hurl it across the room.

“Stop that!” Their mom smacked the chocolate right out of Madeleine’s hand. It bounced off Allie’s leg before skittering across the floor.

“If you won’t let me feed them, there’s no point in me being here,” she screamed at Stone.

Allie couldn’t speak. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she watched Madeleine scuttle over to Luke. They squished themselves together, slid between two puffy chairs and watched their mom scream like a crazy lady.

“Ms. Marsh, we just need to know that you understand what a healthy meal is,” Stone said.

“No! You just want to know how to steal my kids from me. Luke! Madeleine! Come here.”

The twins stayed crammed between the two big chairs, not sure what to do. Allie gestured for them to come out.

“I said come here!” Allie’s mom screamed. “I’m your mother!”

“I think this might be a good time to end the visit,” Stone said, glancing at Allie. “I can get in touch with you tomorrow to see where we go from here.”

And as if it couldn’t get any worse, that’s when their mom started crying. Not quiet, sniffly crying, but loud, hysterical, blubbery crying. She grabbed at the twins, dragging them out from between the chairs.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I don’t want to lose you. No more candy. Ever. I promise.” She was sobbing and hiccupping and gasping for air. Madeleine and Luke clung to her, looking dazed.

“We really need to wrap this up,” Stone said. “I’ll take the kids out to JoJo.” She turned to Allie. “She’s in the waiting room, right?”

Allie couldn’t speak. She opened her mouth, but her throat was too tight. How could a visit that started out so well end so badly?

“Allie, can you get Madeleine for me, please?” Stone had already pulled Luke away from their mom. He was staring around the room as if he was in shock. He was going into one of his trances.

Allie scooped up Madeleine, who was sucking her thumb, and carried her out to the waiting room.

“Oh, dear,” JoJo said, when she saw Luke and Madeleine. “Was it a bit rough in there?”

“You’re not deaf. What do you think?” Allie couldn’t help herself. What a stupid question. They could hear the sobbing, clear as anything, right through the wall.

It was a long, silent drive back to the farm. Allie fought back tears—and fought to stay awake, as the swaying motion of the car made her eyelids droop. She shouldn’t have stayed up so late reading, because she absolutely
had
to help Madeleine and Luke. Had to help them see that this was only a small setback. That they weren’t going to lose their mom and their home forever.

Allie tried to make things normal when they got back to the farm. “Hey, guys, want me to read you bedtime stories tonight?” she asked, using a fake cheery voice that would have impressed even that stupid Stone woman.

No answer. Madeleine had crawled into a corner and was sucking her thumb. She’d wet herself, too, like a baby. JoJo sat on the floor beside her and rubbed her back.

Thunk...thunk...thunk...

“Luke!” Arthur leapt up from the kitchen table, shaking water off his stump—he’d been soaking it in that bowl, again. He ran down the hallway, with Allie close behind. Luke had plunked down in front of the bathroom, and was smashing his forehead into the doorframe.

Arthur tried to pick Luke up one-handed, but Allie pushed him away.

“Leave him alone,” she snapped, as she grabbed her brother.

“I was just trying to help,” Arthur said, quietly.

“I don’t want your help. Go soak your stump.” Allie turned away. She didn’t want to see the hurt look on Arthur’s face. She had more important things to worry about.

Allie wrapped Luke in her arms and carried him back to the kitchen. His whole body was shaking.

“Come on, Madeleine.” Allie swallowed hard and took a deep, shaky breath. “I’m doing stories, now.”

Madeleine ran over to Allie and grabbed her shirt.

“You don’t have to do this alone,” JoJo said. She stood up and held her arms open for Madeleine.

“Don’t do that,” Allie snapped. “You’re not their mother!”

JoJo let her arms fall. “Allie, you’re not their mother, either.”

Allie turned and stomped up the stairs. She had to get away before the tears came.

“You’re not being very nice,” Luke whispered, when they were out of earshot.

I know
, Allie thought.
But there’s no other way.

Still, once she’d tucked Luke and Madeleine into bed, Allie stared out the window, feeling the knot in her chest pull just a little bit tighter. Finally, she tiptoed downstairs. JoJo and Jonathan were making cookies. Arthur was sitting at the table, wincing while he dabbed disinfectant on his stump.

Allie stood at the bottom of the stairs, watching them chat. They were comfortable together. They were happy together. Why couldn’t Allie’s real family be like that?

Jonathan turned to Arthur. “Don’t forget it’s your turn to clean Tripod’s wound,” Jonathan said. “You stuck
me
with it last night.”

Arthur slipped on his prosthetic arm. “I know. I know.” He opened and closed the fake fingers, then stood up.

“I’ll do it,” Allie said, bolting out the door before they could say anything.

Allie’s stomach flip-flopped as she inched closer to Tripod. What was the stump going to look like? Would it smell bad? And how was she supposed to clean it, anyway?

She squatted down beside the scruffy dog and stroked his head. He looked up and nuzzled into her hand.

“Thanks, Allie.”

Allie jumped. Arthur could be a spy or something.

“I just figured I’d...I thought maybe...” Allie sighed. “I’m sorry.”

“I’ll show you what to do. It’s not hard, you just have to be gentle.”

He picked up a pair of scissors and knelt down beside Tripod. The dog tensed, but didn’t pull away.

“He trusts you,” Allie said.

“Took a lot of work.” Arthur carefully clipped away the bandages and gauze. “He didn’t trust anyone when he got here. He’d been abused, so anytime someone got near him, he’d flinch. You just have to be patient—they eventually come around.”

Allie rolled her eyes. “Like foster kids, right?”

Arthur stopped clipping and looked at her. “Grow up,” he said. “It’s not always about you.”

Allie squirmed.

It was quiet—really quiet—as Arthur bathed Tripod’s wound with disinfectant, then gently bandaged it up, again.

“I wasn’t talking about me,” she finally said, breaking the silence.

Arthur frowned. “Yes you were. You
always
are. Every time someone opens their mouth, you’re looking for some way to be pissy about what they’re saying. You could lay off, you know. It wouldn’t kill you to be happy.”

“We don’t belong here,” Allie said, shaking her head. “I want to go home.”

“Allie...” Arthur sighed. “Sometimes where you’re born isn’t where you belong.” He ran his good hand down Tripod’s bony back, then gently scratched his belly.

“Well...where were
you
born?” Allie didn’t care. She just wanted to change the subject.

“No idea,” Arthur said. “My birth mom was a teenager—not much older than us. She gave me up when she saw my arm.”

“Your arm doesn’t look that bad.”

Arthur stopped scratching and stared at her. Stared with a
Wow, I didn’t know you were that stupid
look. “I wasn’t born with a prosthetic arm,” he said. “My arm was mangled, and it was missing all the bones. They amputated when I was six months old.”

Allie stared hard at Tripod, willing her face to not get any redder.

“And Jonathan?”

“His birth mom was like yours. Drank a lot and left Jonathan to fend for himself. And she refused to change. So JoJo took in the freckled brat when he was seven.”

Allie’s stomach turned. No. This couldn’t be happening.

“It’s different for me,” she said, scrambling backward away from the dog. “
My
mom will change. You’ll see.”

She stormed back to the house.

“JoJo wants you to learn to milk Daisy,” Arthur called after her. “I can show you how.”

“I know how to milk a cow,” Allie said, as she spun around and headed toward the barn. She didn’t, of course, but she wasn’t going to admit that to Mr. Oh-So-Perfect.

Allie walked slowly through the barn, looking in the stalls for something that might need to be milked. She stopped in front of a big black cow with a bloated belly.

“That’s a black angus. Those are for meat, not milk,” Arthur said, as he walked past her with a metal bucket and a three-legged stool. “And she’s pregnant. You can’t milk a pregnant cow.”

Allie fumed as she followed Arthur to the next pen.

“This is Daisy,” he said, pointing the stool at an enormous white cow with black spots. “She’s a 1,700-pound Holstein, and she just had a calf a couple of weeks ago.
This
is a milk-able cow.”

His smirk said it all. If Allie had been holding the metal bucket, she would have hit him with it.

Arthur set the stool beside Daisy and sat on it.

“Now, you need to watch out for...”

“I can do this, you know. I don’t need your help.”

“Really? You know how to milk a cow?”

“Yes. You can leave now.”

The corners of Arthur’s mouth quivered. “Alright, then. Take the milk to JoJo when you’re done. She wants to make pudding.”

Arthur handed Allie the metal bucket, and with a big, stupid wave, he backed out of the pen and disappeared.

Allie was alone. Alone with a big fat cow called Daisy, and an empty bucket that she needed to somehow fill with milk. And without any help, either, since her big fat mouth had already announced that she knew how to do this.

Daisy was chewing fresh hay. She seemed happy enough.

Allie carefully sat down on the stool. Daisy turned her head and stared at Allie, still chewing.

“Good...uh...good girl.” Allie patted Daisy’s side. The cow lost interest and went back to her meal.

This isn’t so hard
, Allie thought, as she set the bucket directly under Daisy’s udder. She gently grabbed the two closest nipple things—the teats—and gave them a squeeze. Nothing. She squeezed again. Still nothing. She squeezed and then pulled down a bit.

Ping.

A tiny drop of milk hit the bottom of the bucket. This was going to take forever. She squeezed and pulled harder.

Ping. Ping.
Two drops. Daisy stomped her back foot.

Ping. Ping.
Daisy stomped her foot again.

Whack!
Allie opened her eyes. She was sprawled out in the straw, her head spinning and her left arm throbbing. She sat up and looked around wildly, trying to figure out what had hit her. Daisy was just standing there, munching hay.

Weird.

Allie sat back down on the stool, grabbed the two teats and squeezed.

Ping. Ping.
Daisy stomped and shifted her weight. Out of the corner of her eye, Allie saw the cow lift its massive hind leg.

Whack!
This time, Allie landed face down in the straw. She turned to look at her attacker’s udder. The udder that was full of milk, and was going to stay that way. Allie stood up carefully, rubbing the spongy bruises on her shoulder.

A giggle trickled down the alleyway, followed by a tiny
Shhhh
.

Allie peeked around Daisy. Who was hiding down there? And what was that tiny red light?

A burst of laughter gave away the twins, and they came bounding down the alleyway in their pajamas. “That was funny, Allie! Do it again!”

Arthur followed behind them, holding a video camera. “Nice job. I see what you mean about knowing how to milk a cow.” He peered into the milk bucket. “I’ll take this to JoJo for the pudding. Should be yummy.”

“Why didn’t you tell me she’d kick?”

“All cows kick. You said you knew how to milk a cow, so I figured you’d know that,” he said. “You might as well come in. That social worker’s here, again.

Allie stomped out of the barn. Luke and Madeleine followed.

“That was a good try, Allie,” Luke said. “But I watched JoJo yesterday—you have to grab the teats up really close to the udder, then squeeze and pull down to get the milk out. You were doing it wrong.”

“Don’t be a pest. Allie’s hurt.” Madeleine shoved her brother. “And Allie, JoJo pushes her head into Daisy’s side so she can feel when a kick’s coming and can step back. You didn’t do that.”

Luke shoved Madeleine. Hard. “Don’t be a pest. Allie’s hurt,” he said.

Madeleine swung around and chased Luke across the yard and into the house, scattering chickens and ducks as they went.

Allie followed close behind. Stone was there, so Allie had work to do.

“Shoo!” Allie herded Madeleine and Luke up the stairs. “I already tucked you in, sillies. Get back to bed!”

Then she turned to Stone and took a deep breath. “We want...”

“I know what you want, and it turns out you’re going to get it,” Stone said, sounding disgusted. “You’ve been approved for an overnight visit with your mom. You’re going there tomorrow night.”

Allie stood, mouth hanging open, trying to keep her breathing steady as the excitement bubbled up inside her.

“This is ridiculous,” JoJo muttered, as she scrubbed the kitchen counter. “You saw what happened today. How did
that
earn her an unsupervised sleepover?”

“I tried to fight it, but it’s out of my hands. My supervisor figures that if they’re heading home, we should move things along to get
your
home opened up for new foster kids.”

Allie hated it—really hated it—when they talked like she wasn’t in the room. But she stayed silent, barely breathing. This was actually going her way. Blissfully, totally, completely her way.

“She’s not ready to have those kids back. They’ll end up hurt,” JoJo said, as she tossed dirty pots into the sink and grabbed her scrub brush.

Shut up. Shut up. Shut up.
Allie kept her teeth clamped together so she wouldn’t slip up and say something stupid.

“I’m sorry, JoJo. I tried, but I couldn’t stop this. It’s out of my hands.” Stone picked up her briefcase and headed out the door.

Allie didn’t move. Didn’t say a word. She watched silently as JoJo scrubbed a dirty frying pan like she was trying to kill it. 

“Well, you won,” JoJo said, under her breath. “You got what you wanted.”

“I don’t know why you care. I already told you we’re not staying here.”

JoJo dropped the scrub brush into the sink and turned to Allie. “I care because your mom hasn’t gotten any help, yet. I care because I want you to have a happy life, and I
don’t
think it can happen if they rush you back before she’s ready.”

“This isn’t my home. I want to go
home
!”

Allie threw open the door and ran. She ran into the fields, tripping and stumbling, blinded by tears. She ran until the tornado of anger and fear in her chest finally faded, then stopped and stared at the setting sun, letting the evening breeze dry her tears.

One more day closer to going home, Allie reminded herself, as she struggled to catch her breath. She turned back and headed toward the barn. She wasn’t ready to face JoJo. Not yet.

Allie crept up the rickety ladder into the haymow, her small, bony hands gripping the rungs. The foster workers all said she was too skinny. It was true, but she could fix that at home. She could ask Mom to buy more food.

When she reached the haymow, Allie crawled on all fours to the nearest pile of loose hay. She made a little dent in the middle—a nook just big enough for her body.

She crawled into the makeshift bed, lay down on her side and curled up into a ball. The warm light of the setting sun bounced off of Allie’s skin, giving it an odd glow. She lay still, chewing her thumbnail.

Suddenly, Allie’s eyes shot open. Five pudgy little mice were peeking at her over the edge of her bed. The tiniest mouse set one delicate paw on the hay and leaned in close—so close that it almost touched Allie’s eyelashes with its delicate whiskers.

Allie blinked, and mice scattered in every direction in their panic to get away. When the skittering died down, Allie reached out and touched the spot where the tiny, warm creatures had been sitting just seconds before. She hugged her knees to her chest and closed her eyes.

**

“Allie, wake up.”

No. The dream was too perfect...Allie, Luke and Madeleine in a big, new car with their mom...

“Allie, wake up.”

No. She wanted to enjoy the dream—to memorize every detail.

“Allie, I’m sorry.”

Allie opened her eyes. It was JoJo.

“Allie, I shouldn’t have been so crabby. I’m sorry.” JoJo smiled. “Luke and Madeleine are refusing to go to sleep. They’re insisting that they need one of your bedtime stories. Apparently, mine aren’t good enough.”

Allie sat up and tried to brush the hay off her clothes.

“If you get changed, I can toss that stuff in the wash,” JoJo said. “Oh, and Madeleine showed me the books you tucked under the mattress in your room.”

Allie blushed and looked away, waiting to get in trouble.

“Allie, you can read any book in the house, any time you want,” JoJo said. “Just stop using them as mattress filler.