Mama dropped her head into her hands. “Praise the Lord,” she sighed, like the entire weight of the world had been lifted.

Now we’re riding in Mr. Ryan’s car on our way to Hope House. We drive past the bus station where we first arrived in this city. It seems like years ago instead of a week and a half.

We stop at a red light and there, on the corner of the intersection, I see Ree and Ajax. Ree holds a cardboard sign that says “Hungry Please Help! God Bless!” The wind is blowing so hard it about tears the sign from her hands. Mr. Ryan eyes Ree and Ajax and sighs. Kitty-corner from Ree’s spot is where the dancing man usually is. He’s not there today. I wonder if he’s okay.

And of course, I’m worried about Baby.

I’m also thinking and thinking about Gabby. This morning, I went down to their room to tell her the good news. But when I got down there, it was empty. I asked Miss Jean if she knew where they went. For just a minute—long enough for me to imagine us doing all kinds of fun things—I thought maybe Gabby and her family had left for Hope House too. Miss Jean shook her head. “They left first thing this morning. Gone to live with some relatives, I think.” It makes me sad even though Gabby had told me they were probably going to do that. She was my only friend. Human friend, that is. She didn’t even say goodbye.

The light changes. We turn the corner and there it is: the park where Baby lives. I hope I’ll still be able to check on him.

We pass the library. Mr. Ryan pulls his car into a driveway. “This is it,” he says, unbuckling his seat belt. “Hope House.”

Mama scrambles out to see our new home. Daddy unfolds from the back seat. “Come on, you two,” he says to me and Dylan, holding out his hands.

The four of us stand there on the sidewalk, the Trudeau family, looking up and up at the building before us.

Dylan says what we’re all thinking: “It doesn’t look like a house, Mama.” He sticks his thumb in his mouth.

Daddy frowns. “It looks like a motel.”

“It is—or was,” Mr. Ryan says. He goes around to the back of the car and opens the trunk. “It was a motel, but now it’s a family shelter. Holds a lot of people, I can tell you that.”

Daddy sighs.

Mama stiffens her spine and says, “It’ll be fine.”

Dylan takes my hand. “Emerald City?”

He eyes the tall, gray building, which, I swear, sways in the wind. “Or the Wicked Witch of the West’s castle?” Dylan asks.