Chapter 5
Malcolm and I stand on the sidewalk. We stand there even as a car pulls up and a woman with the same wild curls as Tara’s mother rushes inside. We’re still there when she emerges minutes later with both children and an overstuffed diaper bag slung over one shoulder.
Tara breaks from her and dashes toward me. She clutches me tight around the waist and slips something into my hand, a crumpled bit of paper. She presses a finger to her lips so that I won’t betray a thing; this is our secret.
She races to the car, and before she ducks inside, turns to wave. Thomas squeals a goodbye from his car seat. The woman—an aunt, I’m guessing—gives us a cold stare. She leaves us in a cloud of exhaust.
I smooth the paper, frown at the row of numbers on it, and then tuck it into my pocket.
We
