Mama wears an intense look. She’s quiet, but I can tell she’s disturbed, and I like that, actually. Is that sick?

“So,” she says. “You had to adjust from Eleanor’s home to the group home.” Her words are clippy and her accent gets sharper. I can tell that she has a thousand other questions, but she holds them in.

“Yes.”

“That must have been hard.”

I remember it. Remember Ellen pulling up to the door in the darkness, leaning over me to read the letters on the glass. Telling me to go on, it was okay, that she’d be back for me in a few days, once she got a job and could get us a new place in Omaha. Touching my cheek, telling me she loved me, and I could see in her eyes that she meant it. I believed her. I did.

And then I had to live it down. All the other abandoned loser kids mocking me. Up in my face. They knew. Even my girl Tempest said Ellen wouldn’t be back. But I was stupid. It was months before I believed them. Before I believed that Ellen could ever do anything so horrible to me. When I fell apart, they all fucked with my head even more.

“It was hard,” I agree.

“Then what happened?” She asks. Her voice is soft, like she’s scared I’ll run away if she asks it too loud.

“I stayed awhile longer and got beat up a few times. Learned how to fight back. But that’s where I started thinking that maybe, you know, maybe there was a family, a long time ago. Before Eleanor. Finally I ran away and lived on the streets for about a year before I found you.”

Mama squeezes my knee, and then she hugs me. “I’m glad you found us. We tried so hard to find you. We really did.”

“I know.” I hug her too. Something thaws inside me. It’s starting to feel real, being here.

Mama hangs on, clutching the back of my shirt. I can hear her crying a little on my shoulder, and then she starts sobbing. I pat her back. It’s awkward and I hope it stops soon. I can’t take this every day. But she’s a nice lady, and she’s my mama no matter what I remember about her, so I let it happen.

“I’m so sorry,” she says, sniffling. “I’m so sorry I didn’t watch you better. I wish I could have that minute back. Over and over I wish it. I can’t forgive myself.”

“Mama, it’s okay,” I say.

And for a moment, it is.

CHAPTER 17

At breakfast Dad looks at me with a half smile that says Mama told him everything. I’m glad not to have to repeat it. I down some coffee and grab my backpack, trying to decide what my Cami approach will be today. I think I’m going to pretend I’m not interested.

Blake and I head out to the bus stop and it’s so cold my nose hairs freeze. Cami’s there already, hovering near the other girls. Blake goes to his friends and I stand by myself, feeling a little bit like my day of fame is over. Not sure I like that, actually. I mean, I don’t like the attention, but I don’t like nonattention even more. Tomorrow I’m bringing earbuds, even if I don’t have a player to plug into. I can fake it.

I don’t sit with Cami, even though she’s sitting alone like she’s waiting for me. I want to, but there’s the little matter of the asswipe, and I’ve decided I can’t handle it, personally. I just can’t. It’s a stability thing. I have to pretend I don’t like her, or I could get a little freaky. And I’m not going there.

At school, I see the dude everywhere, now that I know what he looks like. He even says hi to me once. He’s in half my classes and my lunch hour.

I take my tray and go up to him like the ballsy homeless Ethan would do. “Hey,” I say. “Can I sit?” He’s bigger than me.

Asswipe shrugs. “Sure.”

I eat a few bites in silence. Drink some milk. “I’m new,” I say.

“You’re that abducted kid.”

“Right.”

“Who abducted you? Was it, like, for a reward? Your parents loaded?” He’s got this sincere look, like he doesn’t even know he’s asking stupid-ass questions.

“No . . . she just wanted a kid, I guess. Really bad.”

He laughs loud at this, and other large guys join us and sit down quietly. “Sh’yeah. That’s a pretty nutty thing to do, swiping somebody else’s kid just because you want one. Was she a total loco?”

I look around nervously as the guys surround me. “I . . . I guess so. Heh.”

“What a lunatic.”

“Well, she wasn’t that bad. I mean, she was nice to me.”

“That’s whack. Is she in jail now?”

I’m starting to feel uncomfortable. “Yeah, uh, no, she’s still out there somewhere, probably on an abducting rampage.” I take a bite of the brown meat product on my plate. “So,” I say, changing the subject. “What’s your name?”

He grins wide. “Lucky number thirteen, Jason ‘J-Dog’ Roofer.”

“ROOOOOF,” says the rest of J-Dog’s posse.

I almost choke on my roll. Gracie would get along great with these guys—they’re right at her level. “I’m, uh, Ethan. E-Dog.”

The posse doesn’t say anything, and J-Dog snorts again. “You’ll know who I am by the end of the week. Basketball game Friday night. You’re going. You sit at my table, that means you’re one of my friends now. Right, guys?”

“I—I don’t know,” I say, and I shove the pasty mashed potatoes in my mouth and pray that I have enough saliva to swallow them. Getting a stomachache. I push my chair back. “Maybe. See you later.”