Calliope checked the rearview mirror, surprised by the girl’s pessimism. There was such heaviness in the girl’s face, her eyes black and clear as night. Her expression crumpled like she’d received the wrong present on Christmas or spent a birthday alone and forgotten. “Don’t lose heart, chica.”

“I already know what happens, Phoenix’s mama. They aren’t there. None of them.”

The hairs on Calliope’s neck bristled at the way Eunjoo seemed so darkly sure. The little girl hadn’t slept more than twenty minutes since she’d appeared at Calliope’s house. She must have been exhausted. “Try to sleep. Things will seem better when you’ve rested.”

The girl closed her eyes, and Calliope focused again on the road, still unsettled by Eunjoo’s sudden Nostradamus direness.

When Eunjoo began to breathe steadily, Amy said, “Wow, she’s a little bummer, isn’t she?” She stretched upward like a cat and reached into the back of her tight jeans, pulling out a pack of gum she’d pocketed in the convenience store. She opened three mint-green sticks and shoved them all into her mouth at once, smacking as she chewed. She offered Calliope a piece.

“No, thanks.”

Amy shrugged, put the gum back in her pocket then stared out the window, continuing her noisy chewing. “What do you think happened to her family? Do you think we’ll find them?”

“Yes.”

“How can you be so sure?”

Calliope sighed deeply. After a moment, she said, “Honestly? I’m not sure.” Amy shrugged, though her face assumed the quality of a crumpled paper bag. Calliope didn’t say what she felt in her gut: the fates of Eunjoo’s family and hers, maybe even Amy’s, were bound together. If they found one, they’d find the others. They had to. She sighed. “My mom’s a devoted Catholic, right? Deeply pious. She wears a rosary and prays with it every day along with other novenas where she lights these santos candles and incense and leaves gifts at the altar for Mother Mary, the whole enchilada. Since I was a little girl I’ve struggled to believe. But her faith, her unwavering faith … Something keeps telling me she’s safe. That my whole family is safe.”

Amy smacked her gum, stretched her arms above her head. “I hear you, momma. Nothing like a mother who believes there’s good out there. Sounds real refreshing to me.” She looked out the window awhile, then turned toward Calliope again. “Hey, tell me something though. Calliope isn’t a very Catholic-sounding name. If your mother’s so devout, why didn’t she name you Martha or something?”