Ginger leans forward and puts her elbows on her knees. “My sister is a lot of things, but neglectful of her child is not one of them.” She points at me. “She loves this girl. She has from the moment she was born, and I know she’d do anything to protect her.” Something in her voice has shifted. It’s steadier and louder. “Under California law, you can’t keep her over seventy-two hours without formal charges. It’s been three days. Have you charged her?”

Maybe’s there’s more to Ginger than a Lexus and lumpy tomato juice.

“As the investigation is still ongoing, Ms. Montgomery is required to remain in Tahoe City until both the police and social services have closed their cases. But she’s not being held anywhere. She is free to work and go about her business. In fact, we encourage it. She needs a steady job, a home—evidence that she can provide a stable environment.”

So Mom is okay. I let out a little sigh of relief. But then… why hasn’t she called? And how is she going to get a home when she can’t even afford the gas to LA without working double shifts?

“Everything looks good here for now,” Melissa continues. “I’ll be in touch at the end of the week once Lou gets settled in at…” She looks down at her papers and then raises her eyebrows. “Chickering Academy. Swanky.” And then she’s standing, and I’m still not any closer to seeing Mom. Things have gone off the rails. As if they weren’t already.

Melissa shakes hands with Dan and Ginger, and then winks at me. I bet Maria put a note in my file about what happened at the airport. I bet there’s a big Do Not Touch! warning all over those pages. Fine, let her get all the dirt she wants on me. Just give me my mom back!

“Good luck at school, Lou,” she says, and gives me her card. “Call me if you need me. You’re going to be all right. I will see to that. You hear me?”

“I hear you,” I say, and I do. But it doesn’t mean anything. Everybody says I’m going to be fine, but they just keep trading me off from person to person. She doesn’t care any more than Maria did. They all leave and forget about me.

“Good,” she says, and, no surprise, leaves. I watch her ride away on her motorcycle.