When the parents at that house told me I couldn’t live with them anymore, that I had to move again to a different house, I snuck Bread and Jam for Frances into the pillowcase. Joellen came to get me, and I did not say goodbye.

Chapter Six

IN THE MORNING IT WAS SATURDAY, day four at Francine’s house, three weeks until the first day of school, and she insisted I attend the school district welcome-back picnic. “It’s an island tradition, makes the first day of school so much easier. Meet some people, stay an hour—half an hour—and then you can leave.”

I took the bus to a park near the water that was filled with kids from every school on the island, kindergarten through high school. A cloudless, seventy-eight-degree day, cooled by the breeze off the Sound. I stood at the bus stop to watch the little kids chase each other, screaming, and set my watch alarm to beep in thirty minutes.

“Toast and Jam,” a voice called.

Kira. My age after all? She stood by herself just beyond the park fence, knee-length bright blue cargo shorts, black boots, black tank, and hair up, showing off her swirling tattoos, elbow-deep in a bag of popcorn.

I am excellent at engaging with new people, even crowds; that’s basic foster care survival. But being good at it doesn’t mean I like it. I walked, wearing the clean version of the same gray T-shirt and jeans I’d worn to Salishwood, to Kira alone in the shade of a stand of pines. “Hey.”

She leaned against the nearest tree. “You live here?”

“I do,” I said with my meeting new people smile. “Now.”

“Going to school?”

“Yeah.”

She crumpled the empty popcorn bag, downed almost an entire bottle of water, unwrapped two pieces of gum from her pocket, and chewed them into a giant wad.

“When’d you move in?”

“Few days.”

“Where?”

For all my city navigation, I was still unsure where I stood on this forested island. I turned toward the water, where the sun was positioned in the sky, then to the road. “Um. That way?”

She nodded. “You’ll figure it out. Might be near me. Where from?”

“Seattle.”

“So. Muiriel.”

“How’d you remember?”

“You took cookies out of the trash.”

“Right.” My face felt hot. “Sure. That was…You’re Kira?”

She nodded again and snapped her gum, and to my relief, smiled. For real. “And the bitch with the cookies was Tiana. Just so you know. I’d say steer clear, but I think she saw you dumpster-dive, so it’s too late for you now. What grade?”

“Twelfth. She saw me?”

“Same. Tiana, too, so that should be fun.”

“Okay, but she saw me?”