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Chapters (65)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. 1
  4. 2
  5. 3
  6. 4
  7. 5
  8. 6
  9. 7
  10. 8
  11. 9
  12. 10
  13. 11
  14. 12
  15. 13
  16. 14
  17. 15
  18. 16
  19. 17
  20. 18
  21. 19
  22. 20
  23. 21
  24. 22
  25. 23
  26. 24
  27. 25
  28. 26
  29. 27
  30. 28
  31. 29
  32. 30
  33. 31
  34. 32
  35. 33
  36. 34
  37. 35
  38. 36
  39. 37
  40. 38
  41. 39
  42. 40
  43. 41
  44. 42
  45. 43
  46. 44
  47. 45
  48. 46
  49. 47
  50. 48
  51. 49
  52. 50
  53. 51
  54. 52
  55. 53
  56. 54
  57. 55
  58. 56
  59. 57
  60. 58
  61. Acknowledgments
  62. About the Author
  63. Books by Bobbie Pyron
  64. Back Ads
  65. About the Publisher

as the woman and dog

dance in the snow light.

11

Just Piper

When I wake up this morning, the first thing I do is look outside the little window. The light is gray. Snow pecks against the glass, making tiny ticking sounds. Everything is white.

Down in the lobby, breakfast stuff is lined up on two long tables. Mama makes us each drink a small carton of milk before we can have a doughnut. Dylan cries when Mama tells him he can have two bananas but not two doughnuts. I bet Daddy gets to eat all the doughnuts he wants over at his shelter.

Thinking about Daddy makes me sad.

I hear Mama say, “Oh no, we don’t need to apply for food stamps. We’ve just hit a little rough patch, that’s all.”

This patch we’ve been in for the last four months seems like a football field full of briars if you ask me.

But no one does. Or has.

I feel a light touch on my arm. It’s the girl with the long black hair.

“Hi,” she says, smiling with powdered-sugar-dusted lips.

“Hi,” I say.

“You’re new here, right?”

“Yes,” I say. “We came here from Abilene, Texas, but,” I add, “I was born and raised in Louisiana.”

She nods. “We came from a town north of here. We’ve been here for one week and four days.”

I think about Mama sleeping on the floor between our two cots and the tiny window and the mouse droppings behind the wooden chair and Daddy living across the street. A week feels like a very long time.

“We won’t be here that long,” I say, glancing over at Mama. She’s got storm clouds in her eyes. Not a good thing.

The girl with the long black hair sips her juice box and nods. “We’re hoping to get in the family shelter any day now. Maybe we can be friends there.”

Mama grabs Dylan’s hand and marches over in our direction. I hear myself say what I’ve heard Daddy say a million times over the last few months: “We won’t be staying here long. We’ll be moving on to something better with more opportunities soon.”

Or the best thing, go back home.

Mama gives the girl a tight smile, then says to me, “Breakfast is over. Your brother can’t be trusted around doughnuts.” Dylan hangs his head and sniffles.

The girl smiles. “Brothers,” she says. “You’re lucky you just have one.”

I roll my eyes.

Halfway across the lobby, she calls, “My name’s Gabriela, by the way. Gabby for short.”

“My name’s Piper. Just Piper.”

After Mama gets Dylan cleaned up, we bundle into our coats and gloves and hats and meet Daddy out front. Dylan leaps into Daddy’s arms with a yip. I wish I could too. Instead I just say, “Hey, Daddy.”