We all looked around at the cozy home, with the new wood flooring and light-blue painted walls covered with watercolor paintings of Central Park. My favorite thing was the built-in fireplace in the corner. Doug and I had spent plenty of time sitting in front of it last spring trying to figure out how to survive with bullies Kevin and Casey Tolley living on our block.

Zoe nodded. “Yep. This place is gonna sell fast.”

We all sat silently for a few seconds. My mind filled with more questions. “Doug, where are you going to live? Can you stay with your grandma?”

Doug shook his head. “Nah. It’s against the rules.”

“So what are you supposed to do?” I held both hands toward the ceiling.

Doug took a deep breath. “I don’t know. I’ve got a social worker coming over in a couple weeks to help me figure that out.”

“Social worker? A couple weeks?” Zoe gave me a side glance.

Doug held his hand out and I handed back his Frito bag. He dug in, but just came up with crumbs. “Yeah. I guess since I’m only eleven-and-a-half they won’t let me live on my own. I think they’re going to put me in foster care.”

“Doug,” Zoe said, “how old is your grandma?”

“Eighty-seven. She’s actually my great-grandma. My grandma died before I was born.”

“Oh, Doug. I’m so sorry.”

Doug licked his Frito fingers. “Thanks.”

“And where are your parents?”

“ZOE!”

Doug put a hand out. “It’s okay, Arcade. The answer is, I don’t know. I just know that they haven’t been acting like parents for a long time.”

“But . . . foster care?” I gulped. “Where? With who?”

Doug flopped down on the big brown chair in the corner of the room. “Don’t know. Whoever wants to take a hyper preteen boy who devours large quantities of food, I guess.”

Doug sat there, staring at the ceiling. Finally, he got up and spoke. “What are you going to do with Flames? Keep him at your house?”

“Nah. If we did that we’d have to explain where he came from to my parents, and I don’t even know how I’d begin to tell them about the token.”

Doug’s eyes lit up. “You wanna keep him here for now? I mean, until I have to move?”

SQUAWK! SQUAWK! SQUAWK!

I ran over and sat down next to Flames. “Flames, you gotta keep quiet. Everyone in the neighborhood will hear you.”

Doug grabbed his stomach. “You know what? I think he might be hungry.” He took a few Frito crumbs in his hand and held them out for Flames. Flames pecked for a minute but decided chili cheese wasn’t his flavor.

“Of course!” I said. “Who knows when he last ate.”

“So, Mr. Flamingo Expert,” Zoe said, “what do flamingos eat?”

“Shrimp. I read that in a library book. You got any shrimp, Doug?”