“Nah,” she says, sitting down on the grass next to me. “I’m just watching Duke while Linda goes to the Fourth Street Clinic to get her meds.”

I smile. “That’s magnanimous of you.”

Ree raises one pierced eyebrow. “Is that so?”

Before I can answer, she says, “Speaking of magnanimous, I think I know where Jewel is.”

If Baby wasn’t busy licking my chin, I would jump up with joy. “Where? How?”

Ree takes a piece of paper out of her back pocket and hands it to me. On the blue paper is written “Mercy Memorial, Room 102.”

“Where did you get this?” I ask.

“A magnanimous friend who lives on the streets did some checking around and tracked her down. You’ve probably seen him,” she continues. “He dances on the corner of State and Main Street sometimes.”

I feel my jaw drop. “The dancing man? How in the world would he know where to find Jewel?”

Ree’s eyes narrow. Not good.

“You think he’s just some crazy old guy who dances on the street corner?”

I shrug.

“That man, whose name happens to be Jesse, knows everybody and everything that goes on in this pathetic excuse for a city.”

I decide it’d be best to change the subject.

I read the paper again. “What do we do now?”

Ajax plops down next to Ree with a groan. She rubs his ears between her fingers. Then, like she had just now decided what to do, she says, “I’m going to have Linda watch Ajax and Jewel’s stuff tomorrow so Baby and I can go check on Jewel.”

I blink. “You and Baby? How will you get Baby into a hospital? I mean, she couldn’t get into the Community Kitchen with him; I don’t think a hospital is going to let you just waltz in with a dog.”

Ree snorts. “Jewel’s a lot more honest than I am. I’ll sneak Baby in. It’ll be easy,” she says, tossing her long dreadlocks back. I look at her hair, her tattoos and pierced eyebrow. I shake my head.

“What?” she demands.

“You might want to lose the eyebrow ring,” I say.

She squints at me hard.

I gulp. In just outside of five minutes, I’ve made Ree mad twice.

Then she looks pointedly at my bright-blue-and-red backpack. “Let me guess: Hope House.”

I can feel my neck and ears turn red.

“How long?” she asks.

“Just six days,” I say.

She nods. “Before that?”

I sigh. “The emergency shelter.” I fiddle with the collar around Baby’s neck. “Before that is kind of a long story.”

She nods. “It usually is.”