“You need to leave,” the nurse says.

“But we just got here,” I protest.

“We need to calm the patient down,” she says.

Ree’s eyes narrow in a dangerous glare. “What are you going to do to her?” She looks like she’s going to explode.

This is not going well.

“Ree,” I say, pulling on Ree’s arm. “Let’s go. We’ll come back again soon.”

Ree yanks her arm away. “Don’t touch me,” she growls.

“You need to leave, now,” the nurse says again, “or I’ll call security.”

“Don’t leave me here,” Jewel whimpers.

You can see the war inside Ree’s heart in her eyes. Finally, she touches Jewel’s hand. “We’ll be back soon,” she says. “I promise.”

Ree turns and shoves past the nurse. I start to follow her out, but then I stop. I don’t know what in the world gets into me—maybe Fire, maybe Mama—but I turn and say in my most dignified voice, “Her name is Jewel,” I say. “Jewel Knight. She’s not ‘the patient,’ she’s a person.”

Mama and Fire are working a puzzle in one of Mama’s sudoku books when we get back down to the lobby. Mrs. Bailey is on her phone.

Fire jumps up when she sees us. “What happened? Did you tell the doctors about Jewel’s medicine?”

My heart drops. The pill bottles. Ree, and I look at each other. How could we have forgotten?

I look away. “We didn’t really have a chance to tell anyone. Things got a little, well”—I look at Mama—“tense up there. The nurse made us leave.”

Ree studies her boots, frowning.

“I cannot believe y’all didn’t tell that nurse about the pills!” Fire says.

“Jewel did get pretty upset and, well, confused,” I say. “Maybe it was best that we left.”

Mrs. B tucks her phone in her back pocket. “We’ll come back next week, when I have a day off.”

“Next week?” Fire explodes. “The longer she doesn’t have her pills, the worse she’s going to get!”

I feel tears stinging my eyes. “In a week, Baby might be adopted by someone else,” I whisper.

A calm voice says, “Give me the pill bottles, honey.”

Mama’s holding out her hand. I press the orange bottles in her palm. She drops them in her pocket and nods toward the elevator. “Let’s get this straightened out, Piper.”

My heart flies up to the ceiling. If anybody can get this straightened out, my mama can.

When we get back up to the nurses station, Mama puts on her best no-nonsense smile and asks, “Who’s in charge here?”

The mean nurse raises her chin. “I am.”