“Now I want you to listen to me very carefully before we say good-bye.” She doesn’t try to take my hand, but she does lean in, and I’m looking at the top of her graying head and then finally meeting her eyes. “I know these people are new. This town is new. And maybe it will only be for a little while. If what you tell me about your mother is true, then I hope so. But this is an opportunity, Lou. No. Don’t roll your eyes at me. It is. I meant it when I said you are tough. I know the world can be too loud sometimes and too close—”

I let my eyes slide off hers and back down to my feet.

“But you are not the only one who feels like that. Look at me.”

I do.

“You are not the only one scared of noise or crowds or planes or strangers and the unknown. I’ve seen your file from the school in Biloxi. I know you’ve had a hard run. But I also know you’re smart. And this is a chance to find out more about yourself and to learn who you are when everything else falls away. This is an opportunity.”

I’m so tired of hearing how I have to fight for everything. For someone who won’t let me see Mom, Maria sounds a lot like her. It makes me want to hold on to her sleeve.

“There’s more than just an iPod to get you through, Louise. But you’ve got to be curious. You promise to do that? To be curious?”

I nod. Because what choice do I have?

She gets up. “All right, then. Let’s go.”

Maria walks onto the escalator, and I let one, two, three steps go by and then follow. Over the loudspeaker, Johnny Cash is singing “Ring of Fire,” and I think, Yeah, that’s sounds about right.

The baggage carousel has already stopped. I spot Mom’s battered guitar case covered in stickers before I notice the woman with the bright red hair holding it in her arms. She’s holding it all wrong, cradling it like a baby. She shouldn’t be touching it at all. Who gave her the right? Next to her is a very tall, very blond guy.

Maria walks up first and holds out a hand, but it’s not to shake. She’s asking for ID. “Mr. and Mrs. Latimer?”

“Yes, I’m Mrs. Latimer, Ginger, and this is Daniel.”

Daniel fumbles with his driver’s license after Maria hands it back. Then he turns to me. “You must be Louise. Ginger’s told me so much about you.” He holds his hand out, but I stick my fists in my pockets and fiddle with the iPod. How does Ginger know anything about me to tell?