She knew it wasn’t her place, but these girls had come to her, and she wasn’t going to send them away with a few words of comfort and forget about them. That wasn’t her way.

“Mom told me. She needs a bone-marrow transplant. We’ve got insurance, but it’s not all that good—my mom says, cata-something. They say that her policy won’t cover the procedure. What’s even worse is I’m a match, and, well, they’re just sending her home to die because we don’t have the money.” Charlotte broke down then, and Lauren squeezed onto the shabby sofa beside her and wrapped her arms around her. The girl was bone-thin, and the coat she wore, if you could even call it a coat, wouldn’t keep the bitter temperatures at bay.

“Your mom probably means catastrophic insurance, which means it . . . only covers a certain amount.” She hoped she was right, but went on, nonetheless. “Is your mother still in the hospital now?” she asked.

Charlotte nodded.

“They’re sending her home this evening,” Kiley said, finally speaking up.

“Okay.” She would handle this. Some way. “I’m assuming her doctor and the hospital staff know you’re a donor match?” She held up her hand. “And you are willing to go through this procedure? You have your parents’ permission?” Where was Charlotte’s father? She racked her brain again, trying to remember if any of the three girls had even mentioned his name, but she was clueless.

“Yes, they tested me last year when she was first diagnosed, but Mom didn’t want me to do it. She got better for a while, and then she got sick again, which has happened a lot, but this time, well, I guess the insurance people are tired of her.” More tears from Charlotte, and Lauren’s eyes swam with tears.

“My dad always told me there is a solution to every problem, and I’m sure there is one for your mom. We just have to figure out what it is,” Lauren explained, her mind going a million miles a minute. “Your mom worked at the post office, right?”

Charlotte wiped her nose on the sleeve of her skimpy coat. “Yeah, she still has her job, but the thing with the insurance, well”—she sniffed—“I don’t understand it. I think she pays for it and all.”

Lauren grabbed a box of tissues from her desk and handed it to Charlotte. “Anyone for a cup of instant cocoa while I put my thinking cap on?” She took the teakettle she used in the microwave and filled it with bottled water. “I don’t have marshmallows or whipped cream,” she said, a sad smile on her face. She was simply borrowing time, but the girls didn’t need to know this.

“That’s awesome,” said Lacey. “You’re the coolest older woman I know . . . well, besides Charlotte’s mom.”

Lauren laughed. “Thanks, I think.”

Charlotte smiled and leaned back into the sofa. “She doesn’t mean to weird you out, it’s just her way.”