Sara, clearly realizing she’d said something wrong, turned a shade of red like the tray of tomatoes as she plucked a piece of ham out of the serving tray and dropped it on her plate. Summer didn’t want to blow it. She had a few seconds to salvage the situation, so she said, “Hey, want to eat together?”

Sara froze, her plate between her hands, and then, decidedly, she nodded.

“We sit there,” she said, pointing with the serving spoon toward the far wall. Summer could see Sara’s mother and father sitting together with their coffee. They were watching.

“Okay,” Summer said. “Can my mom come?”

Sara shrugged, and Summer went off to find her mother, feeling happy.

She didn’t find her, however, and after five minutes of circling the cafeteria with her plate, Sara came to collect her and lead her back to the table where her parents were still drinking their coffee. Sara’s mother and father seemed glad to have her and asked her questions about where she’d lived before and what her dad had been like. Summer answered as politely as she could while she kept her eye on the door. Her mother had said she’d meet her for breakfast so that Summer could tell her about her first night at Kids’ Camp.

“Summer...” It was Sara’s mother, Ama. “She probably got caught up. She was meant to start her new job today.”

“Oh,” Summer said stupidly. She hadn’t known. She knew that everyone here had to work, on the compound or off, that they had to contribute. She remembered asking her mother what she was going to contribute. Had she answered? Summer couldn’t remember.

“Where does she work?” she asked Sara’s mother. Her voice was meek and confused, and the woman, sensing her distress, put an arm around Summer’s shoulders and squeezed gently. It was a mom thing to do, and Summer began to cry.

“Well, look there, sweetie, I see her now.”

Summer’s head snapped up, and lo and behold, her mother stood in the doorway of the cafeteria, eyes searching for her daughter. Summer didn’t say goodbye to Sara’s family; she launched herself from her seat and across the room, dodging bodies and plates until she was face-to-face with her person.

“Sorry I’m late,” Mama said. She didn’t hug Summer like she normally would have, just stood with her arms at her sides.

“I was worried,” Summer shot back accusingly.

“I have a job,” her mother said simply. “I’m really tired. Come with me while I get some coffee.”

She followed after her, tripping once on her heels. When they found a spot at the end of an overcrowded table, her mother slouched over her mug and looked at Summer with droopy eyes.