Excerpt: Hummingbirds of [SOMEPLACE WITH A PRETTY NAME]

1:

Julia stopped in the doorway and looked into the play room. “Is that her?” she whispered.
“Sure is,” Elena said from behind her, pushing her forward.
The girl watching TV on the other side of the room didn’t see them right away. She held the remote tightly in her hands and smiled as the laugh track swelled. She was tall for her age and a little chubby, with coppery skin lightly dusted with freckles. Her black hair was pulled back in several braids that swung down by her ears.
Julia wanted to watch her longer, but Elena was pushing her into the room.
“Denasia,” she said loudly, “your sister is here to see you.”
She didn’t look damaged, Julia thought, as Denasia turned toward her. She looked like any normal eleven-year-old girl. Her shoes were scuffed and the knees were wearing thin on her jeans. She didn’t look abandoned or lost or angry or depressed, no matter what the case file said about her.
Denasia tore her eyes away from the TV and smiled. “You’re Julia?” she said.
Julia waved. “Hi, honey,” she said, stepping forward.
Denasia slid off the couch and hugged her, wrapping her arms around Julia’s waist. “I’ve been waiting since lunch for you to get here. Am I moving out of here?” she asked.
“I hope so,” Julia said. “I hope you’ll come and stay with me. Did Elena talk to you about that?”
Denasia nodded and pulled away. “I don’t remember you,” she said. “I’ve been trying.”
Julia pulled her to the couch and sat down with her. When she looked up, Elena was gone, and the door to the hallway had been shut behind her.
“You were still a baby the last time I saw you,” Julia said. “Here, I have pictures.”
She brought out the two faded Polaroids, one of Julia holding a tiny baby in a hospital room, and the other of the two of them with their mother, still in her hospital bed. Denasia latched onto the one of their mother and peered at it closely.
“That’s my mom?” she said.
Julia nodded. “Look how happy she is.”
In truth, Julia thought, Mom looked a little out of it. She wasn’t looking at the camera, and, in fact, her eyes seemed to be looking in two slightly different directions. The nurses had helped her comb back her hair, which had a tendency to stick up at odd angles when it wasn’t brushed. In her mug shot, for example, she had the wild, harried look of a mountain man, or someone who hadn’t seen the inside of a shower in several weeks.
“I don’t really remember her either,” Denasia said.
Julia didn’t say what she was thinking, which was, “Thank God.” Instead she smiled and hugged Denasia a little closer – Elena had told her that the staff at the home weren’t allowed to physically touch any of the children, and she figured Denasia needed a good hug – and said, “She loved you so much when you were born.”
The visit lasted just an hour, but it seemed to go by much faster. Julia and Denasia were comparing their hair – Julia’s was limp and fine and brown, opposed to the kinky curls Denasia had – and the size of their hands, and suddenly Elena was coming through the door and clapping her hands, telling them it was time to go.
“No!” Denasia said, clamping her hands around Julia’s shoulders and giggling just a little bit. “She can’t go, not now!”
“Denasia, we talked about this,” Elena said.
“I know,” the girl sighed. “I was only joking. But you’re coming back, aren’t you?”
“Of course,” Julia said. She could hear the high, tense note in Denasia’s voice that said she wasn’t really joking at all. “Elena and I will work something out. Maybe I can take you to lunch next weekend or something.”
“We’ll see,” Elena said, crossing her arms.
“You have my phone number,” Julia said. “You can call me any time you want.”
“OK,” Denasia said.
She kept her arms wrapped around some part of Julia – her arm, her waist – as they walked back down the hall towards the dorm.
“Be good,” Julia said. “I think if you are on your best behavior, then it’ll be easier next time for us to go somewhere else. We can get ice cream or something.”
“Can we get sundaes?”
“I’ll tell you what,” Julia said, holding her close, “if you’re good until the next time I see you, I’ll take you anywhere you want to eat and you can get anything you want.”
“Anything?”
“Absolutely,” Julia said. “That’s what sisters are for, I think.”
Denasia went back to the dorm with a smile on her face and didn’t see the tears welling up in Julia’s eyes. Elena handed her a tissue as they walked to the front door where Julia had to turn in her visitor badge.
“It looks like it went well,” Elena said.
“Can I mail her copies of the pictures? I should have made them before I came, but I just didn’t think about it.”
“Of course.”
“Do you think she’ll be ok?”
“She’ll probably act up a little bit, but the staff know what to expect.”
“A week seems like a really long time,” Julia said. “Now that I’ve met her for real, I don’t know if I can make it that long.”
“I want to talk to you about something,” Elena said. “Her caseworker here at the house wants to lower her level – she’s been doing very well here.”
“OK,” Julia said. “What does that mean, exactly?”
“They want to move her, basically,” Elena said. “The house is getting crowded, and they’re running out of beds. Denasia’s been well-behaved, so she’s the prime candidate for moving out.”
“I thought this moving her around business was supposed to stop, now that we made a plan. They promised to keep her until the end of the year, when she comes to stay with me. That’s what you said, isn’t it?”
Elena sighed and smiled tightly. “You’re right, I did say that, and that was my understanding, too. But just today they said they want to adjust it. They don’t think she’s a danger to herself anymore – she hasn’t injured herself in weeks. She’s been more open in therapy, and she seems to have grown up a little bit. They are very encouraged – it’s a good thing, Julia.”
“And no good deed goes unpunished, apparently.”
“They want to move up a few parts of the plan,” she said. “They’re willing to keep her in service here as far as therapy and medication administration until the end of the year, just like we planned. But they think she should move in with you before school starts in the fall.”
Julia stopped. “Excuse me?”
“I spoke with several staff members here, including the director. They think she has a better chance of success if she starts the new school year in her new home, instead of moving her at the semester break.”
“That’s only a month away.”
“Can you get ready by then? Ideally, we’d want her to move a little earlier, maybe in three weeks.”
“If I say no?”
“You can, of course. We can try to get permission for her to stay here, but most likely she’ll be moved into a foster home for a few months until you’re ready.”
“This isn’t fair, this isn’t what we planned.”
“Well, plans change sometimes and we have to adapt, Julia. I know it’s hard –“
“I don’t need you to treat me like a kid,” Julia said. “I know plans change, it’s not that. It’s just – three weeks isn’t a lot of time.”
“You got along well today.”
“For an hour. That’s a lot different from twenty-four hours a day every day.”
“The State is willing to subsidize her move, since it is a lot earlier than we said it would be.”
“What does that mean?”
“We can send you a check every month, starting when she moves in through the end of the year. You can use it to buy furniture and school clothes, whatever you need, since there’s less time to prepare.”
“Now you’re bribing me to take care of my own sister?”
“Don’t think of it that way, it’s not the same. It’s just a courtesy. We’d have to pay a foster home anyway.”
They reached the front desk and Julia slammed her visitor badge down on the counter, causing the poor girl sitting behind it to jump.
“I’ll think about it,” Julia said.
She ignored Elena’s outstretched hand and hurried out to her car. She sat behind the steering wheel in the sweltering heat and bawled. She knew she would agree to Elena’s horrible new plan, and she had a feeling that Elena knew it, too. But she wondered why she always had to be the person to do the right thing, when everyone else just seemed to take advantage of her.

2:

The first time Julia talked to Elena, the first time she had even thought about her sister in years, had been the Monday after Easter. Julia had just finished teaching her second spinning class of the day and was glad to see that her regular afternoon personal training appointment had cancelled. She had to run to the vet to get more medication for the dog, and there was nothing to eat at the house, and she was behind on laundry since the washateria had been closed over the weekend for Easter.
She was on her way out to her car when she checked her voicemail. Robb had called again, uselessly, trying to ask her out on another date, and she deleted it without listening to the whole thing. The second message was a young woman with a Spanish accent who introduced herself as Elena.
“I work with Child Protective Services and I’m trying to reach Julia Phillips,” she said. “We’re looking for relatives of a young girl named Denasia Martin, and we think she may be your sister. Please give me a call back, I am really just hoping you can help me put together some contact information of her aunts and uncles.”
Julia paused, one hand in the middle of closing the trunk of her car. She stared at the phone and then replayed the message. Denasia had been adopted, Julia kept thinking. Years ago, she had been taken by the state and placed with a new family. Julia had called CPS a few times when she was in college, shortly after her mother’s arrest made the newpapers. But when they told her to stop calling, that an adoption had been finalized and her case closed, she had tried to put Denasia out of her mind.
Elena wasn’t there when Julia called back, so she left a message and tried to continue through with the rest of her day. When the receptionist at the vet came out with her medication, Julia was staring at a poster for a new flea treatment, her mind racing through all the possibilities – had something happened to Denasia, was her mother getting out of prison, what if the adoptive parents had died?
“Ma’am? Your pills?” the girl said, shaking the bottle.
“Sorry,” Julia said.
“Is Amy getting any better?” the girl asked, marking something down on Julia’s chart.
“Not really,” Julia said, handing over her credit card. “She had another seizure two days ago.”
“Poor thing,” she said.
“Yeah,” Julia said. Usually when she talked about the dog, she fought back tears, but her eyes were dry for now. “She’s old. At least the doc says she’s not in any pain.”
“Well, call and let us know if anything changes.”
Julia thanked her and went out to her car. She found herself staring at the door handle, her keys an inch away from the lock. Denasia would be – what? Almost eleven years old, right? – what if she was pregnant. What if Elena was looking for someone to adopt the baby?
But no, the message said they were looking for relatives. Maybe Denasia had cancer and needed bone marrow or DNA or something. Julia rested her head on the top of the car and swallowed a few times.
When she got home, Amy wasn’t waiting at the door as she usually did. She was huddled in the corner of the sparse living room. A large puddle of pee extended from her dog bed across the shiny wood floor. Julia dumped her stuff on the couch and thanked whatever Gods she could think of that Amy hadn’t had the seizure on the furniture.
“Come on, yellow dog, let’s get you cleaned up,” she said, scratching Amy under the chin until her tail thumped slowly against the wooden floor. “It’s not your fault, it’s OK.”
It was somewhat meditative to take the dog out back and scrub her with the shampoo, to rub her down with an old towel from the pile by the back door. Julia was in the middle of throwing the dog bed into a plastic bag – she’d have to take it to the washateria with everything else – when her phone rang. She stared at it, the bag limp in her hands, for a moment before grabbing it. Part of her, she realized, almost didn’t even want to know what had happened.
“Is this Julia Philips?” the young woman said on the other end. “My name is Elena Martinez with Child Protective Services.”
“Yes, this is Julia,” Julia said. “You called about my sister. Is she ok? What happened to her?”
“She is fine, there’s nothing to worry about,” Elena said. “I’m her new case worker, and I just met Denasia a few weeks ago. We’re working on a new plan for her, and we’d like to include the input of her relatives.”
“I thought she was adopted,” Julia said. She sank to the floor by the fireplace and leaned against the wall.
“Yes, that’s my understanding as well,” Elena said. “I am still trying to figure out what happened there exactly, but she’s back in the system and we’re hoping to increase her contact with her birth family this time around. Are you in contact with any other relatives?”
“There aren’t a lot,” Julia said. Her heart began racing. Denasia was back in the system? How did something like that happen? She tried to concentrate. “Our mom’s in prison, I’m sure you know.”
“Yes, I have been trying to get visitation rights re-established at the prison, but it’s been tough. What about her father?”
“You mean Roy? I haven’t seen or heard from him in a long time,” Julia said.
“He’s not listed on her birth certificate,” Elena said. “What’s his name? I’ll see if I can find something on him.”
“Roy Washington,” Julia said. “My mom was pretty mad at him when Denasia was born, and he refused to come to the hospital, so she left him off the paperwork to get back at him. She kicked him out of the house about a month later.”
“And that was the last time you saw him?”
“Pretty much.”
“Is there anyone else? Grandparents, aunts, uncles?”
Julia sighed. “I’ll be honest,” she said. “Once I moved out, I stopped keeping track of anyone like that. I know my grandparents are dead, but I don’t know about Roy’s parents. I never met them. Mom had a sister, but she moved to Mexico a long time ago and I haven’t heard from her in a long time, either.”
“What was her name? Do you know what part of Mexico she went to?”
“Are you going to try to find her?” Julia said. “She might even be dead.”
“Nothing’s too remote,” Elena said. “We have people who can search for relatives. And it’s important for Denasia.”
“Her name was Antonia Philips,” Julia said. “She could be anywhere, honestly.”
“That’s great. And once I get in to see your mother, I think we should be able to put a few more names down. It’ll be a place to start anyway.”
“A start for what?” Julia asked. “Are you – are you looking for someone to take care of Denasia?”
“Possibly,” Elena said. “Her case plan hasn’t been updated in some time, and I’m not sure why her old worker didn’t do this before he left. I don’t think we can provide the long-term support she needs in her current placement, so I’m just looking for other options.”
“What about me?” Julia asked. Her mouth went dry. “Couldn’t I take care of her?”
“You have to be a little older,” she replied. “Caregivers have to be at least twenty-one years –“
“But I’m twenty-seven,” Julia said.
There was a long pause on the other end. “It says here you are only seventeen.”
“I was seventeen when my mother was arrested,” Julia said. “That was ten years ago.”
Elena sighed. “I guess no one updated the record, then,” she said finally. “I guess this changes a few things. Would you be willing to be considered as a placement option?”
“Yes,” Julia said.
“You’ll have to pass a background check and a home study. It will probably take a few months to get everything in order. Maybe next week we could meet in person? To discuss the options.”
“I want to see Denasia. Where is she?”
“She’s staying at a shelter for now,” Elena said. “Next week, we’ll get the paperwork started. I’ll check with them and see what I need to do to get you on the visitor’s list.”
“I haven’t seen her since she was a baby,” Julia said. “They told me she was adopted, and I just tried to think she was better off.” Her voice trailed away to nothing as her throat closed up with tears.
“I know it’s hard,” Elena said. “I’m sorry no one contacted you before, and I’m going to do the best I can to help you and Denasia, I promise.”
“Thank you,” Julia said.
“Can you write her a letter?” Elena said quietly. “Write her something and bring it with you next week. It won’t be as good as getting to see her, but it will be important.”
“Of course,” Julia said. “Anything.”

3:

Julia had never been a very heavy sleeper, and the night she left home for good was no exception. She heard the tiny click of her bedroom doorknob and suddenly she was wide awake. As her eyes adjusted to the dark, she saw a tall, black shadow advancing. And with it, a cloud of Bourbon.
“Roy, this isn’t your room,” Julia said loudly.
He paused.
“Mom’s at the end of the hall, remember?” she said.
She could hear him breathing but he didn’t say anything. How drunk was he? If he was only tipsy, he would probably stumble back down the hall and start an argument with Maxine. If he were really drunk, and Julia prayed he wasn’t, then anything might set him off.
Julia threw back the covers and sat up. “Come on,” she said, “I’ll walk you down there.”
“Now, now, now, don’t you start telling me what to do or not do,” he said gruffly. He shuffled closer and Julia slid to the very foot of the bed. He collapsed onto her pillow and pushed himself upright.
“I’m going to check on Mom,” Julia said, delicately putting her feet on the floor. “I’ll be right back.”
He grabbed at her hand but she swiped it away. Her heart was pounding fiercely as she trotted out to the hallway again. He was really drunk, which made everything more difficult. She hoped he would just pass out in the next few minutes, but it was never easy to tell with Roy. He could handle a lot of liquor.
Julia pushed open the door to the back bedroom. Little Denasia was still sleeping in the bassinette by the window. Her mother was curled up sideways across the top of the bed, her mouth hanging open. Julia pulled free one of the blankets and retreated to the armchair in the corner.
Her mother had never been a common sense kind of person, but things were getting worse. Most of Julia’s childhood had been spent moving from house to house, apartment to mobile home, wherever a landlord was willing to take them on. She worked, but not consistently or for a long time at any one place. Julia could remember, long ago, driving with her Aunt Toni to the refinery at the edge of town to pick her mother up from the night shift, but that could have been in another century.
Things had been getting worse since Roy arrived. He wasn’t the first boyfriend, by a long shot, but he was the first one to claim he wanted to make things work for the long term. He had a job and made enough money to keep them current on the rent anyway. Julia was still the one who did the grocery shopping, since the grown-ups didn’t want to eat as much as they wanted to drink.
Her getaway bag had been packed since Denasia came back from the hospital. It was in her closet, though, in her bedroom, and until Roy left Julia wasn’t sure how she was going to get it out. It contained two changes of clothes, a new toothbrush and all her money. She only had $200. She wasn’t sure how far that would get her, but of course, it didn’t even matter how much was in there if she couldn’t get to it.
One of the girls in her history class, Tracianne, had agreed to let her spend the night for a while. There were only two more months before graduation. Maybe she could stay with Tracianne until then.
There was movement at the other end of the hall and Julia held her breath. Roy was coming. He stopped in the bathroom and she listened to him pee for what seemed like ten minutes. He was huffing and out of breath when he pushed in the bedroom door.
Julia sat very still, thinking that perhaps, if God were watching down on her, he would make Roy fall asleep before he saw Julia in the chair.
But that wasn’t what happened.
“Girl,” he said in a low voice, “what are you doing in here?”
“Just checking on the baby,” she said. “I think Mom’s out of it tonight.”
Roy looked over at Maxine, snoring against the headboard.
“Yeah, she’s out of it, all right,” he said. “Sleeping like a drunk.”
“I’ll go back to bed,” Julia said. “Just give me a few minutes to say good night to the baby.”
The baby would be her good luck charm, she thought. He can’t do anything to me while I’m holding his own child. But she didn’t get to the bassinette. Roy had her by the arm before she made it.
“Hey, that hurts!” she yelled.
“Yeah it hurts,” he said. He flung her toward the bed and she bounced off the footboard.
As she scrambled up from the floor, a sharp pain firing through her back, she saw Roy take off his belt. She didn’t wait to find out if he was planning to whip her with it, or if it was just the first step before he took off his pants. She ran down the hallway to her room, closing the door and pulling her desk in front of it.
She grabbed the bag from the closet and tossed a pair of flip flops out of the window after it. Roy was outside her door, bellowing as if to wake the dead. Denasia was crying, too, bawling uselessly. She didn’t hear anything from her mother.
“Stupid old drunk,” she muttered, as she climbed out the window.
She hit the ground lightly and was gathering up her things when she heard the bedroom door crash open. Roy was at the window immediately, calling her all kinds of names. But he couldn’t get his bum knee high enough to clear the windowsill and she was able to run through the back yard without any pursuit.
The night air was warm and salty. Dawn was still two or three hours away, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. In fact, for April on the Texas coast, it was about as pleasant as it ever got. Julia put on her shoes and walked three blocks over to the Mexican cemetery. It didn’t have a fence or a gate, and she knew a small gazebo inside where she could rest until it was light out.
It was the last time she saw Roy, except for once three years later in Corpus Christi when she was sure she had seen him panhandling next to the freeway. She didn’t see her mother again until her trial the following year. She cut her classes at the community college twice to sit in on testimony. And until she met Elena at the treatment center, it was the last time she saw Denasia.

4:

“Before we start talking about a move-in date,” Elena said, taking a seat across from Julia at the conference room table, “we need to talk about some of Denasia’s special needs.”
Julia opened her purse and took out a notebook and a pen. “What special needs?” she said. “On the phone, you said she was fine.”
“In context, she is doing well,” Elena said. She reached over to the edge of the table and pulled over two large three-ring binders. Denasia’s name was written across the spine. They were each about four inches thick and full of paper. “But, I have to warn you, the details of her story are very sad.”
Julia’s pen hovered over the notebook page. “What do you mean?”
“You can read her file,” Elena said. “I wouldn’t necessarily recommend it, but I’ll give you the chance if you’d like it.”
“Just tell me,” Julia said.
“You know she was taken into care when she was less than a year old, when your mother was arrested,” Elena said.
Julia nodded. “That’s what I had heard.”
“She was in foster care for about a year, until the verdict was reached, and at that point, your mother terminated her rights.”
“Is that a common thing, when someone goes to prison for life?”
Elena looked away. “It can be,” she said finally.
“Did you talk her into it?”
“No,” Elena said. “The department is not allowed to talk anyone into giving up their rights. But I wouldn’t be surprised if someone showed her the benefits of making Denasia available for adoption. And that could very easily lead to the termination of rights.”
“Are you serious?”
“I can’t say what happened for sure,” Elena said. “I wasn’t working the case at the time, and I have to go on the notes that the old worker put down.”
“Do you do that with a lot of mothers?” Julia could feel her blood beginning to boil.
“It’s impossible to say,” Elena said. “We are always trying to do the best thing for the child involved – and wouldn’t you agree that a toddler would be better off adopted than being in foster care for seventeen more years?”
“She’s back in care anyway,” Julia said, “so I’m not sure what good it did.”
“We placed Denasia with the Martin family a few months later. They fostered her for a year and then legalized the adoption.” Elena reached over and pulled open one of the binders. She flipped through the pages and then turned it around to show Julia. “Here are the pictures from her adoption day.”
Julia ran her fingers over the snapshots. Mr. Martin was tall with white-blond hair. His wife was a little portly, with dark hair and a huge smile. Denasia, a chubby toddler, was wearing a pink t-shirt that said, “I’m adopted!” Her kinky hair was standing in curls around her head, and she looked happy.
“What happened?” Julia asked.
“When Denasia was about seven, she was discovered wandering around an emergency room waiting area downtown.”
“Alone?”
Elena nodded. “We’re still not exactly sure what happened. According to Denasia, her father dropped her off and left for vacation. But when police went to the house, it was empty and there was no sign of either of her parents.”
“Where did they go?” Julia asked.
“That has never been discovered.”
“You mean they dumped her at a hospital? And left?”
“It’s a very sad story,” Elena said. “I’ve never heard of anything like that happening before. And technically, since the adoption had been finalized so many years before, it’s likely that no one from the department had been checking in with them.”
“Why not?”
“Well, it’s not common for us to remain involved after an adoption,” Elena said. “That is the main difference, in many cases, between foster care and adoption. The worker felt the family was very stable at the time the adoption was finalized, and that was really the end of it from our side.”
“Incredible,” Julia said, shaking her head from side to side. “I can’t believe you would let something like that happen.”
“We never learned what went on in that house, or why they decided to leave Denasia behind. We sent her to therapy and tried to find out what she remembered, but she’s never been very forthcoming. She was young – it’s possible she didn’t understand a lot of it.”
“I can’t believe this,” Julia said. “I can’t believe you didn’t call me then. I would have taken care of her.”
“I’m sorry,” Elena said. “There were different policies in place back then.”
“She was completely abandoned,” Julia said softly, touching the pictures of the happy toddler again. “Those people should be shot. I thought adoption meant you keep a kid forever.”
“You’d be surprised,” Elena said. “Many adoptions end up falling apart.”
“You mean people really return little kids?”
“It’s very sad, for all of us involved.”
“Did you know Denasia back then?”
“No, I’ve only been working with her since the beginning of the year.”
“What happened after they left her behind?”
“She was placed with another adoptive family, Mr. and Mrs. Sandle. I’ve worked with them for a long time, they are wonderful people.”
“No great enough,” Julia said. “If she’s not still with them.”
“Yes, it was an unfortunate circumstance,” Elena said. “They wanted to adopt Denasia, they really did. But Denasia refused. I think she’s probably still hurt from the failed adoption. But the Sandle’s agreed to keep Denasia until she was eighteen. According to the record, they planned to bring up adoption again in a few years.”
“But Denasia refused again?”
“She made a scene at court about two years ago. She told the judge that she never wanted to be adopted ever again. But according to her old worker, she had a very good relationship with the Sandle’s. She called them mom and dad, and said she loved them. And they loved her back.”
“So what went wrong, then?” Julia asked.
“Mr. Sandle’s employer moved the family to Florida last year. Denasia wanted to go with them, but the judge wouldn’t allow it unless everyone agreed to adoption. And Denasia refused again.”
“Even though it meant that she had to stay behind?”
Elena nodded. “She was moved to a shelter, as a temporary placement, after the Sandle’s moved, but that was when she starting acting out, and then they moved her to the treatment center where she is staying now.”
“Acting out?”
“Hurting herself. She has cuts on her arms and legs. Self-inflicted.”
“Why?” Julia asked. “Why would she do that?”
“Because she’s hurting, and she doesn’t know how else to express it. Since she entered the treatment center, she’s been doing much better. That’s where I met her for the first time, and she’s a very good kid. She’s sweet and kind and gets along with her roommates.”
“What happens if she starts doing it when she’s at my house?” Julia asked. “How am I supposed to deal with that?”
“She’s in therapy and she’s on some medications. We’ll probably recommend family therapy, for both of you together, so you can learn how to deal with situations when they come up.”
Julia stared at the blank notebook page in front of her. She’d forgotten to take any notes. But perhaps it didn’t matter, since she felt like every word Elena had said to her in the last hour was burned into her memory forever.
“Why did you call me?” she asked finally.
“You were the only person I could find in her entire record, her only relative. I have an appointment to meet with your mother next month, and I’m hoping she’ll have a little more information – maybe she knows how to get in touch with your aunt or something.”
“Not likely,” Julia said. “Mom’s been in prison for ten years, how is she going to know any of that?”
Elena sighed and slowly shook her head. “I don’t know. I have to follow every lead, for Denasia’s sake. And maybe someday you or Denasia will want to visit your mom – I have to do what I can to make it easier you the both of you.”
“But why me?” Julia asked. “Why don’t you just place her with other foster parents or something?”
“Would you like me to make some inquiries into that?” Elena asked. “I can do it – we have plenty of dedicated families who foster with us.”
“No,” Julia said. “No, that came out wrong. I’m glad you called me. I was really sad when I learned she was adopted and I would never get to see her again. I just don’t understand why, after all this time, you called me up. Why didn’t you call me before?”
“Sometimes, this work is very hard,” Elena said. “We hear a lot of sad stories. And I’ll be honest with you, the older a child is, the sadder the stories get. If we don’t find permanent, loving homes for them before they hit thirteen or fourteen, their chances of moving out of the system decrease dramatically. And the outcomes for foster kids are not very good. They don’t graduate from high school, or they become homeless, or they commit crimes, or they have substance abuse issues.
“Denasia is a good kid. She’s likeable and funny and smart. She deserves to have a better chance than just bouncing around from place to place for the next six or seven years. A few new studies that have come out in the last few years indicate that she will have a better chance for success if she can live with a relative. We’ve started trying to find family for every child in the system now.”
Julia stared down at her hands. She remembered those late nights in college, sitting in front of her computer, trying to track down lost cousins and never-met great-aunts. She hadn’t found anyone. As far as family went, Denasia had just Julia and an aunt lost in Mexico.
“What if I’m not good enough?” she asked.
Elena gave her an inscrutable look. “What do you mean by that?”
“What if I make her worse? What if I ruin her? I don’t know what I’m doing – I don’t have any other kids. I’ve never done this before.”
“The first thing you should know,” Elena said after a long pause, “is that your level of worry is appropriate. I would wonder if you were ready if you came in here with a bunch of rainbows in your heart, blathering about how you couldn’t wait to hug all the hurt out of your sister.”
“I wouldn’t do that,” Julia said.
“It happens,” Elena said. “Some people have no idea what it means to take on such a responsibility. You’re right to worry – but I can also assure you that most children, Denasia included, are very resilient. That means that they have the capacity to survive great hurts and come out ok.”
Julia could feel tears welling up in her eyes. She reached for a tissue from a box on the table. She wondered how many people had reached for a tissue from this exact seat, hearing an equally sad story.
“The best indication that a child will succeed,” Elena continued, “is when they know they have a permanent place in a loving home. She belongs to you and you belong to her – once she understands that, I think you will find that a lot of what happened to her in the past will recede. It will stop being so important.”
“Are you sure?” Julia asked.
“Of course not,” Elena said. “In my position you learn to be skeptical of everything. But I have faith that you will do what is best for her. And that is all anyone can ask.”
“Ok,” Julia said, nodding.
“Should we move ahead?” Elena said. “With the plans for Denasia to live with you?”
“Yes,” Julia said.

5:

Julia came home from her meeting with a handful of papers from Elena, and a long list on her notebook.
Things she needed to complete: background check, home study, meet with Denasia’s therapists, discuss medications with Elena and her supervisor, get on the visitor’s list at the treatment center, meet with Denasia, attend court.
Elena said the entire process could take months. It all depended on how Denasia reacted. If she became nervous or started to fail her classes at school, the treatment center could request that she stay there longer. But if she showed signs of stabilizing and improving, then they could push for it to happen sooner. Elena had even said that there had been cases when the judge had requested a child to move back home with family before the home study was completed.
“It’s not likely to happen in this case,” Elena had said. “But really, when it gets t the point of meeting with the judge, just about anything is possible.”
Down at the bottom of the page, Julia had penciled in the one item that worried her more than any of the others: convince Denasia to move in with her. How she was going to do that, she had no idea. But she put the thought out of her mind, as she did with most things that bothered her.
She patted the dog absently on the head as she came in the door and went to the kitchen table to write up an entirely new list. Amy put her tired head on Julia’s lap and sighed.
“How would you like a new roommate?” Julia asked, stroking her behind her ears. “What are you going to do with a kid in this house?”
She ripped off a page of notebook paper and laid it down in front of her. She wrote “Things to Get for Denasia” at the top.
Bed, sheets, blankets, comforter, dresser, desk, computer?, cell phone?
Did kids have cell phones these days? How was she going to pay for that? Would she even know how to use a computer? What if Julia had to teach her how to do simple things like that? She wrote down “daycare” near the bottom of the page and put a giant question mark next to it. Denasia was – what? Eleven years old? – was that old enough for her to stay home alone after school? What if she used the time alone to start cutting herself again?
Julia tore out another sheet of paper and labeled it: “Things to Ask Elena.”
Julia was great at making lists. She loved lists. At this moment, she had four of them going on scraps of paper around the kitchen: a grocery list, a list of things she needed from Target, her weekly “to do” list, and one from the vet of things she needed to do every day or every week with Amy. Inaddition, she had one taped to the inside of the pantry with a list of all the dry goods she needed to keep stocked. When she ran out of something, like black beans, she added it to the grocery list. And even in her bedroom, taped to the inside of her closet, was a list of clothes she needed to buy.
She walked into the spare bedroom, the one she used as an office. Her old laptop sat on a card table in the corner, but nothing else really identified the room as an office. Amy padded after her and collapsed into a heap on the large dog pillow in the corner. The room was pretty bare. Julia thought about painting it – maybe pink or green – but then she tossed that idea away. Parents painted the bedrooms for their newborn babies, but Denasia wasn’t a newborn and Julia wasn’t a parent. She would ask Denasia when she arrived what color she would like to paint it.
Oh God, did that mean she shouldn’t buy a comforter or blankets before Denasia arrived, just in case she didn’t like the ones Julia picked out? She turned to the doorjamb and leaned her head against it. Then she banged her head lightly against it a few times. The more she thought about her sister, the more complicated everything became. How did other people do this?
She returned to the kitchen and grabbed the list. Next to “comforter” she added, “pick something neutral.” Then she shut down every idea she had about Denasia and stopped thinking about it. Instead, she grabbed the leash and called Amy to her.
“Walk, girl?” she said. “You want to go for a walk?”
In her younger days, Amy would have lunged at Julia on her hind legs. Now, however, she just thumped her tail against the floor, the only way she could show her excitement.

6:

The following day at the gym, Julia found herself staring angrily at the woman in front of her. It was Beatrice Dekken, who had hired Julia three weeks ago for a month of personal training … and then promptly cancelled each of their appointments.
Now she was here, in what looked like a brand-spanking new jogging suit, bottle of water in hand, raising her eyebrows at Julia as if to say, “What’s the problem?”
“I’d almost given up on you,” Julia said, trying to keep her tone level and neutral.
“My schedule’s been a little crazy,” Beatrice said. Her voice, Julia noted, contained no sign of contrition or apology. She was merely stating a fact.
“You are aware,” Julia said, “that in order to have a lasting effect, you do need to work out more than twice a month.”
“I still paid you for those appointments,” Beatrice said. “And you didn’t even have to do anything for that money. I’d think you’d be glad.”
“I like personal training,” Julia said. “I do not like waiting around the gym for an hour, waiting for you to arrive.”
“Well,” Beatrice said, shaking her head a little bit so that the chicken wattle under her chin wagged back and forth, “I guess we can’t change the past, just the future.”
“I was going to suggest we talk – again – about what you think you should be getting from these sessions,” Julia said. “Because if you don’t like my style, or the workouts I suggest, or the way I work – I’m not going to take it personally. We can just find you someone you like better. It’s your money, you should be getting something out of it that you want.”
“It’s not you,” she replied, “it’s me. I’m a little flaky on these things, you know.”
Julia pulled her notebook out from behind the counter and flipped it open to Beatrice’s page. “You said you want to lose weight, increase your endurance, and generally be more fit. Is that right?”
“Still correct,” Beatrice said with a smile. She sounded like she was talking to a four-year-old.
“Would it help to set a goal?” Julia asked. “Maybe you’d like to work up to running a 5K in a few months.”
“I could never do something like that,” Beatrice said. “I’m not what you’d call a runner.”
Julia stared at her for a long moment before saying anything. It was time, she decided, for some tough love.
“Starting today,” Julia said slowly, “you are not going to use the word ‘never’ in my presence, or the word ‘can’t.’ If I hear you saying those things, I am going to drop you from my list, no matter what you want to pay me.”
Beatrice stared at her, eyes as wide as dinner plates.
“And,” Julia continued, “for the next three months, you ARE a runner. You have always been a runner and you will always be a runner. After the three months are over, you can do whatever you want, but while you are here training with me, you are going to be a runner.”
“I’m not sure I can do that,” she softly blubbered.
“You don’t have to be sure,” Julia said. “You just have to trust me.”
Julia slammed the notebook shut and shoved it back into the cubbyhole behind the counter. Then she motioned for Beatrice to follow her to the treadmills.
Julia had been a personal trainer at this particular gym for just over two years. She genuinely liked the work, especially when she was able to train with people who had attainable goals and actually wanted to meet them. It seemed, however, that lately – maybe for the last six or seven months – every client was like Beatrice: people with vague goals who never wanted to show up. Julia was half-convinced that most of these people only signed up for the gym membership because there was a steam room in the locker rooms. Beatrice, she figured, would probably spend an hour in the steam room for every twenty minutes she spent working out.
Beatrice was an older woman, in her fifties, who probably had some grown kids. In fact, Julia realized, Beatrice was probably the same age as Julia’s own mother. She was short and round and soft – her new jogging suit was in the size 16 range, and the cuffs at both the ankles and the wrists were rolled up a few times. She had a fleshy face with a rosebud mouth and kind brown eyes.
They started on the treadmill with a warm-up walk for five minutes, and then Julia slowly increased the speed until Beatrice was haltingly jogging.
“Thirty seconds of running, then 60 seconds of walking,” Julia said. “This is going to seem easy the first few times we do it, but you are going to be very tired when you get out of here tonight.”
Beatrice’s face turned a bright tomato red within fifteen seconds of running. When she was back to walking, she exhaled so loudly and quickly that her breath seemed to explode from her mouth.
“Breathe,” Julia commanded, turning on her sternest voice. “In for two steps, out for two steps.”
She found herself jogging in place beside Beatrice on the next round of running, demonstrating very loudly what the breathing should sound like.
This lady was never going to run a 5k. There was just no way.

7:

Julia sat with Amy on the living room couch. The TV was on, but neither of them were watching it. They were staring instead out the window, waiting for Elena’s car to pull into the driveway. Julia was stroking Amy’s neck, sometimes gripping it tightly in her hands and then smoothing it out. Amy, for her part, was being perfectly patient. Every few moments she licked Julia’s arm very slowly and gazed up at her with her sad, puppy dog eyes.
Almost every list Julia had made about her sister was crossed off and thrown into the trash. She still had some lingering questions for Elena, but they could wait. And she was planning a new list in her head, since she had started to see back to school commercials on TV – “What does Denasia need for school?”
The house was perfectly clean. Julia had spent the last two days cleaning everything. Even the couch was relatively free from dog hair, although how long it would stay that way, Julia couldn’t say. The dishes were all put away in the kitchen. She had even baked some chocolate chip cookies and put them in a bowl on the counter.
Denasia’s room, the old office, was full of furniture now. Most of it had been collected from craigslist and garage sales, everything except the bookcase. Julia had been amazed to learn that no one ever got rid of a bookcase. When she had asked around at the garage sales, people had openly laughed at her. So the bookcase was from Ikea, brand new. Julia hadn’t managed to get either a cell phone or a laptop for Denasia yet. She had a few leads on a used computer, but hadn’t had a chance to call about any of them yet.
The bedspread was new as well, a mild-looking beige one she had found at Walmart. It was cheap enough that she planned on allowing Denasia to pick out her own as soon as she was settled. How long did it take someone to get settled in a new home? How long did it take to drive across town from the treatment center? Where were they?
The other new items in the house were tucked away in Julia’s closet – half a dozen books on raising troubled teenagers. A few of them had been recommendations from Elena, and the others had popped up on Amazon under “also purchased.” Julia had started reading one of them and was already a little freaked out. She had never realized before how many ways children could hurt themselves, intentionally or not. When she thought about it for too long, she could feel her heart rate start to increase. As soon as that happened, she stopped thinking about it and moved on to something less terrifying.
Almost every night this week, she had woken up several hours before morning, unable to get back to sleep. The house was quiet and calm in those hours, and she found herself wondering what it would be like to have another person in it with her. Amy didn’t really count.
The house was a mid-century bungalow at the edge of the old part of town. Things were a little more rundown in this neighborhood than they were out in the newer developments, but Julia liked the old trees in the yards and that she could still walk to the water if she wanted to. It was a twenty-minute walk, so she didn’t go very often, but knowing it was nearby was a comfort to her. In fact, this was the kind of afternoon, the kind of antsy mood, that usually would have been perfect for a long, slow walk along the shore. If she hadn’t been waiting for Elena to arrive, she would have slipped a leash on Amy and walked down there.
Julia had been living in this house for almost four years. She rented it from an elderly couple who now lived across town at the Baptist Missionary Retirement Home. Julia had chosen it for the big back yard, where Amy could chase squirrels and possoms, and for the large picture windows that looked out on the driveway. She was staring out that picture window right now, wondering if something had happened to Elena and Denasia. Maybe Denasia threw a fit at the center and now they had changed their minds about letting her leave.
In the spring, hummingbirds came to the front garden almost every morning. Julia had a little feeder out for them now that she had recently filled up with sugar water. Now that she knew a little more about the house – how the bathroom leaked every six months or so, and how oven thermometer didn’t work – she wasn’t sure she would choose it again. But she also didn’t want to move.
An old minivan creaked along the street and slowed down in front of the house. Julia recognized Elena in the front seat, and could just see the frizzy top of Denasia’s hair in the backseat. Amy lumbered to her feet and stood at the window, snuffling and almost barking, as she did whenever anyone came to the house. Julia stayed on the couch and turned to the TV. Maybe she could pretend she was just calmly watching this cooking show and casually get up after they had rung the doorbell. But no, she turned it off and walked to the front door, throwing it open.
“Sorry we’re late,” Elena said, climbing out of the car. “There was a lot more paperwork than I expected.”
The backdoor slid open and Denasia climbed out. She was wearing a yellow t-shirt and a light jacket, and jeans with two giant holes in the knees. Julia immediately started up her mental list of things the child needed and added “clothes.”
“Hi, Miss Julia,” Denasia called. She dragged a huge backpack out of the car and lugged it up to the front porch.
At this point, Amy’s excitement couldn’t be contained any longer. She nosed her way past Julia’s knees and lunged across the threshold before Julia could grab her. She darted straight at Denasia and barked. Denasia dropped the backpack and shrieked.
“Amy!” Julia yelled. She grabbed for Amy’s collar, but she was already running down the path toward Elena in the driveway.
Julia yelled for her again and ran past Denasia. She grabbed Amy by the neck so hard that she yelped. “Come on, you,” Julia said, pulling her back toward the house.
When Amy was safely tucked away in the backyard, Julia stood with Denasia by the sliding glass doors in the kitchen.
“She’s usually a very nice dog,” Julia said. Amy stared at them from the other side with her sad, puppy-dog eyes. She whimpered and scratched at the door as if to say she was sorry.
“I never had a dog before,” Denasia said. “She’s big. Why did you name her Amy?”
“Her name is really Amarilla,” Julia said. “They named her at the pound before I adopted her. It means yellow in Spanish.”
“But you call her Amy for short?”
“Yes.”
“Does she sleep in bed with you?”
“No, she has her own bed.” Julia drew the blinds, hoping Amy would forget about them and find a hole to dig along the fence or something. “You want a tour? You probably want to see your room, right?”
“I get my own room?” Denasia said.
“Of course,” Julia said, wondering at the girl’s surprise. Elena had specifically told her that Denasia needed her own bedroom; that had been one of the strict conditions about her moving in.
She led Denasia through the kitchen and down to the hall to the bedroom. Denasia ran forward and leapt onto the bed, burying her face among the pillows.
“I didn’t know what your favorite color was,” Julia said. “So, maybe next week or something we can paint the walls or buy a rug or something – you can decorate it anyway you want.”
“Really?”
“Sure,” Julia said.
Elena arrived with one of the bags from the car. It was a black garbage bag that was so full it was starting to tear.
“What’s this?” Julia asked.
“Some of her things from the shelter,” Elena said. “We ran out of boxes.”
“Those are my clothes,” Denasia said. She opened it up and pulled out a fistful of underwear, dumping them on the bed. For the first time, Julia saw her arms as the sleeves of her jacket rode up. They were covered with pink, raised scars.
“We’ll unpack later, honey,” Elena said.
“But I have to find my pajamas,” Denasia said. She continued piling clothes up on the bed. Julia was appalled to see several shirts were stained. They would have to go shopping immediately.
“I have cookies in the kitchen,” Julia said.
That got Denasia’s attention. She rushed past them and ran into the kitchen. “Can I have one?”
“Sure, of course,” Julia said, following her.
Julia and Elena watched as Denasia scarfed down five cookies. And then as she ran back to her room, gleefully pulling all her clothes out of the bag and spreading them around on the floor.
“Is this normal?” Julia asked quietly.
“She’s bound to be a little excited – it’s the nerves and the expectations all coming out. She’ll settle down. If she’s extra messy, just wait until a quiet time to talk to her about it.”
“I feel like she needs all new clothes,” Julia said.
Elena sighed and nodded. “Send me the receipts when you get them, and I’ll try to get you reimbursed for some of the costs.”
“What if the dog doesn’t like her?”
Elena looked at Julia silently for a moment. “Everything is going to be ok, big sister,” she said. “Do you have anything planned for today?”
“Get her unpacked, I guess,” Julia said. “That was about all I thought of.”
“Let her help you cook dinner, or take her and the dog for a walk – do something together for a little bit. And if she doesn’t want to follow the rules for the first few days, it’s ok to let things slide. Let her adjust.”
“Ok,” Julia said. “I can do that.”
“Well, I think it’s time for me to go,” Elena said. She smiled as Julia’s eyes widened in fear. “I will call you in a few days. And in a couple of weeks, I’ll be back for a visit.”
“I guess I can call you if anything bad happens?”
“Nothing bad is going to happen,” Elena said. “You are a smart, capable person and Denasia loves you.”
“Ok, I’ll try not to worry too much.”
“Denasia,” Elena called, “come say good-bye to me, darling.”
Denasia bolted out of her room, squeezed Elena around the middle, and then dashed back into her room, climbing on top of a growing mound of clothes, and waved good-bye. “See you later,” she called.
Julia walked Elena to the door and watched the old minivan back out of the driveway. The house was quiet again, except for Denasia humming to herself. Then Amy scratched at the back door again and Julia went to sit with her on the steps.
Amy thumped her tail against the cement floor of the patio and put her head in Julia’s lap. “You have to be nice to her,” Julia said. “Her name is Denasia and she’s going to live here from now on. Do you understand?”
Amy looked up at her with her sad eyes. Sometimes, it really looked like she understood.
Julia let her back into the house and followed her as she went to investigate the curious new creature in the spare bedroom. Denasia was surrounded by clothes and books and pictures and notebooks and glittery detritus that might have been candy or jewelry or – Julia gulped – paint.
“Is she friendly?” Denasia whispered.
“She is,” Julia said. “Sometimes she just gets a little too excited. If you hold out your hand, she’ll probably give you some kisses.”
Denasia offered her palm to the dog and, after sniffling if all over, Amy gave her two slow licks with her pink tongue. Then, wish a sigh, she folded her legs underneath her and rested her front paws and her head right on Denasia’s lap.
“What is she doing?” Denasia asked.
“I think she’s trying to be your friend,” Julia said.
Denasia stroked her across the head and smiled. “Can we be friends, Amarilla?” she said quietly. Then she looked up at Julia with a quick jerk of her head. “Can she sleep in bed with me?”
“No,” Julia said. “But you can watch TV with her on the couch, if you want.”
“Do you have cable?”
Julia nodded. “I signed up for it the day I found out you were going to stay here,” she said. “I always wanted cable when I was a kid, but we never had it.”
“TV!” Denasia shouted. She leapt to her feet, knocking Amy back a bit. Then she ran out to the livingroom, calling Amy to follow her. Amy and Julia exchanged a look before the dog trotted after her.
“I know,” Julia whispered, watching her leave, “things are going to be a little different around here now.”

8:

Julia had adopted Amy from an animal shelter on the day after her college graduation. She shared her apartment with two other girls from her department at the university, but they had always been against pets of any kind. Especially Amalthea, an exchange student from Greece.
“No one has pets in my family,” she said. “This is a very strange thing in my country.”
But Amalthea was moving out after graduation, leaving for a new job in New York. And when Julia had broached the subject of a dog with the other roommate, Tiffany, who was desperately waiting for her boyfriend to propose to her so she could live with him instead, the argument had not been hard to win.
Julia had wanted a dog for years, for as long as she could remember. Her mother had always promised that “one day, when things aren’t so tight,” they would talk about it. And then when Roy moved in, every chance of discussing it had been dropped permanently. Roy had taken one leering look at her from the kitchen table and said, “Ain’t no dog coming into my house.”
Julia had been fourteen at the time, and that was the end of that.
What she really wanted was a black dog with a white bit of fur on his neck. Maybe a black lab or something like that. She had seen a picture of a dog like that in the paper once, jumping from a pier down by the water, chasing after a tennis ball. That was what she wanted, a dog who liked to go swimming. One with big brown eyes and curly hair around his ears.
But on the day she went to the shelter, Amy had stolen her heart with one look from her sad, puppy-dog eyes. Julia knew better now – they weren’t really sad eyes, they just looked that way. Amy’s little furry eyebrows just looked pitiful and hopeful when she raised them up, when she was trying to look up without going through the trouble of raising her head. But on that day at the shelter, those sad eyes were the reason she was adopted.
So instead of a black dog with a white neck, Julia came home with a yellow lab-mix. Her fur was short and straight and coarse, not curly. But she had big brown eyes, and she was friendly. When she growled under her breath a few minutes before the mailman arrived at the door, Julia was comforted.
She didn’t like swimming, either. But Julia decided it was ok. She would run along the beach after a tennis ball. And maybe it was better than she didn’t like to get all wet and salty every time they walked down to the beach.
The shelter had said that Amy was at least 3 years old when Julia adopted her, but the vet put her age as older than that. When she started showing signs of her illness, the brain tumor, last year, the vet had said maybe he had underestimated her age back then.
“This is the kind of thing that happens to a much older dog,” he said.
They discussed treatment – several thousand dollars for Amy to stay at the University vet hospital for experimental chemotherapy. Julia, who had never maxed out her credit cards before, gave it serious thought.
“Will it work?” she asked.
The vet had sighed and shook his head. “No one can say for sure,” he said. “You have to think about it very carefully. You have a dog who might be as old as twelve or thirteen already – even if it does work, she won’t live forever.”
Julia looked down at Amy, who had her head in Julia’s lap.
“She’s had a good life, right?” she asked.
“Few dogs have it better than she does,” the vet said.
“Maybe that’s enough for her,” Julia said.
The tumor was painless, that was what the vet said. And, as Julia watched Amy in the following weeks, she saw no evidence that Amy was feeling any hurt at all. The only time she seemed distressed was right after a seizure, when she was scared and embarrassed – and really, Julia thought, who wouldn’t feel like that, after emptying one’s bowels all over the kitchen floor, or falling down the back porch steps.
The tumor would eventually take over Amy’s brain. She might go blind or deaf, and she might lose the ability to recognize the people around her. There was no way to know exactly what would happen. One day, the vet told her, the tumor would make it impossible for Amy’s body to function anymore. At that time, she would either die – probably peacefully, in her sleep – or develop a problem so severe that Julia would know it was time to put her down.
But Julia tried not to think about that day. Every morning when she woke up, she just thanked whatever Gods were around that Amy had lived to see another day.

9:

“What if I don’t want to go to school?” Denasia asked as they pulled into the parking lot. The first day of school was still a week away, but Julia wanted them both to meet her new teacher before the beginning of the year.
“You mean at all?”
“Like if I wake up one morning and don’t want to go?”
“You have to go anyway.”
“What about if I’m sick?”
“If you throw up, you can stay home. Otherwise, you have to go anyway.”
“What if I don’t like it here?”
“You will.”
“What if I can’t make any friends?”
“You will.”
“What if Amy needs me while I’m at school?”
“Denasia, please,” Julia said. “You are going to be fine, I promise. You’re new teacher will be nice, you’ll see.” She parked the car and opened the door. “You coming?”
“Yes,” Denasia said, hanging her head low and sighing dramatically.
Within a few steps, however, she was looking around and asking curious questions about everything she saw. Why wasn’t there a flag on the flagpole? Why was the playground built on the asphalt instead of on the grass? Where were all the kids? Julia had learned, after a few days, that although Denasia liked to make a lot of noise – she complained almost constantly about one thing or another – she didn’t seem to mean any of it. A moment of severe depression was usually quickly followed by curiosity and questions.
The elementary school was a one-story brick building fashioned around a courtyard that held long lines of picnic tables and shady trees. They walked along a covered porch to the office door. The smell that greeted them was a combination of markers and windex and copiers – a smell that took Julia back to her own school days the second she smelled it.
The receptionist sent them down the hall to the fifth grade wing and they found Mrs. Smithson’s room without any trouble. She was a short, cheerful woman with a bobbed haircut that framed her chubby face.
“Good afternoon!” she said.
Denasia didn’t say anything. She moved behind Julia a little bit and peered around her arm.
“This is Denasia,” Julia said, pulling Denasia back out into the open.
“Denasia Martin?” said Mrs. Smithson. “We’re so happy you’re going to be coming to our school.”
“She’s a little nervous.”
“Of course,” Mrs. Smithson said. “Well, let me show you to your desk.”
Julia watched as Mrs. Smithson took Denasia around the room. She showed off the corkboards on the walls where the students would be putting up posters and assignments. She took Denasia to the corner where she had a calendar that listed which student would be her helper for the day. Denasia was quiet, but biddable, and when Mrs. Smithson showed her the library by the window, where a couple of bean bags were sitting next to a small bookshelf, Denasia settled herself in and started reading a thin volume about ponies.
Mrs. Smithson came back to her desk and asked Julia to have a seat.
“She’s an adorable child,” Mrs. Smithson said. “I love that hair, it’s so curly.”
“Yes,” Julia said. “We might get it braided back if I have time to take her to the salon, but we’ll see. Did … did the principal talk to you at all about her, um, needs?”
“A little bit. I don’t think she can hear us, if you feel you need to tell me anything.”
“I’m not her mom,” Julia said. “She’s my little sister, and our mother is … basically out of the picture. So, Denasia’s staying with me for the time being. Her old school sent over her records, and it looks like she was a good student, but really, I don’t know anything about how smart she is, or what she needs help with.”
“We test all of our new students,” Mrs. Smithson said. “We have a lot of kids in this school who don’t live with their biological parents – although, I will say, most of them live with their grandmothers and not their sisters. But once she meets the other kids, she’ll see that her situation isn’t particularly unique.”
“You don’t think they’ll make fun of her for it?”
“No,” Mrs. Smithson said. “You never know what kids are going to get teased about – you might think it’s their clothes or how fat they are or their name, and sometimes it’s a complete surprise. If anything comes up, I’ll call you and let you know. But I think she’ll be just fine.”
“And if she’s not as smart as the other kids, will she have to go to remedial classes?”
“We’ll figure all that out in the first couple of weeks. You don’t need to worry. Look, she’s reading on her own and without me standing over her threatening that she had to do it – just trust me when I tell you most poor readers aren’t like that. Do you have books at home for her to read?”
“She brought a few with her from her last, um, home.”
“We’ll be taking all the kids to the library here during the first week, and if you take her to the public library, too, I’m sure you’ll discover she has a healthy curiosity. Don’t worry about things you don’t have to, honey.”
“Right,” Julia said. “That’s a good point.”
Mrs. Smithson brought out a notebook and flipped it open. “Now, does she take any medications?”
“She does, but she’ll take them at home, not at school.”
“You’ll want to stop by the nurse’s office on your way out today and give her a list. That way, if something happens, or if she has a reaction God forbid, we’ll have it on hand.”
“She also, um, she cuts herself sometimes,” Julia said slowly, trying to figure out how best to say it. “She hasn’t done it since she moved in with me, and all her scars look pretty old, but, um, maybe you could just keep an eye out for that, too?”
Mrs. Smithson made a note of it. “I will, for sure,” she said. “Do you know what her triggers are?”
“I just know what her therapist told me, which isn’t much. It’s when she gets nervous or when she’s feeling bad, I guess. I haven’t seen it happen myself, so I don’t know much.”
“From what I’ve seen with other kids, this is the kind of thing she’ll do when she gets home at the end of the day. Is she alone at all after school?”
“She will be, yes, a few days a week anyway.”
“I should have a list ready in a few weeks,” Mrs. Smithson said, “of some after school activities that she can sign up for. If you get to the point where you’re nervous about her being alone, that’s what I’d suggest. I’ll send it home with her probably the first week of school.”
“Ok,” Julia said. “That sounds good.”
“She’s going to be ok, you know that, don’t you?”
“Everyone keeps saying that. It’s a little hard to believe, I’ll be honest.”
“Well, just look at her. She’s a beautiful child. And I’m sure she’s resilient. Most kids are.”
“Right,” Julia said.
Mrs. Smithson handed her a business card. “You can call me whenever you want. Or email me, whichever is easier.”
Julia stood up. “Thank you very much for all your help.”
“Glad to do it.”
She walked over to Denasia and tapped her on the shoulder. “You ready to go, honey?” she asked.
“Ok,” Denasia said.
“You can keep the book if you like.”
“Really?” Denasia said. “Thank you!”

10:

Julia opened her eyes and held her breath. The house was dark. Outside, the yard was still dark. She heard the noise again, a whimper and a thump. It sounded like it was coming from the front of the house. She climbed out of bed, scared for the first time in years.
Standing in the hallway, she waited until she heard it again. This time, it was more of a gurgle, the struggle of someone choking. Julia rushed into Denasia’s room, but even without turning on the lights, she could see that the blankets were thrown back from the bed and that it was empty.
A million thoughts flooded her mind as she raced toward the front door. If Denasia could cut herself for fun, could she also strangle herself? Would she?
As she ran through the living room, she tripped over a warm, furry body and slammed into the side of the fireplace.
“Julia!”
She looked down and saw Amy laying prone on the floor, twitching from side to side in one of her seizures. But wrapped around her back was Denasia, her head tucked next to the dog’s chin.
“What’s wrong with her?” Denasia said, tears in her voice.
Julia knelt next to them. She put her hand over Amy’s heart and listened as it thumped along. Julia had witnessed just one other seizure before, when she was doing the dishes in the kitchen and suddenly saw Amy collapse in the backyard. Amy’s heart had been racing that day. But this time it didn’t seem much different than usual.
“She’s sick, honey,” she said softly, stroking Amy’s head as she twitched. She looked down and saw a puddle forming next to Denasia’s leg. “I think she peed on you.”
“Are we going to take her to the doctor?” Denasia asked.
“No,” Julia said. “This happens sometimes, and there’s nothing the doctors can do about it.”
“Is she going to die?”
“Not tonight. This is a seizure. She gets them sometimes. It will go away in a few minutes.”
“Will she be ok? Will she remember us? What if it damages her brain or something?”
Julia wanted to cry. It was damaging her brain. Amy’s brain was slowly being eaten by the tumor and one day, it was true, Amy might just forget everyone. She might turn on them as strangers. She could attack when they came home from the store, thinking they were intruders. Denasia was unfazed by the dog pee all over her pajamas and was still holding onto Amy tighter than ever.
The twitches were slowing now. In a few minutes, Amy would come back to herself, or the paralysis would go away.
“Let go of her,” Julia said. “The last time this happened, she was very scared when it was over.”
“No,” Denasia said. “She needs me.”
“I don’t want her to bite you.”
“She won’t.”
“Denasia, please don’t fight me about this – she’s an animal, not a person, and we can’t explain things to her the way we could explain them to another human. She won’t understand.”
“She needs me,” Denasia said.
Amy’s panting stopped. She opened and closed her mouth a few times and shook her head. She turned and looked up at Julia and thumped her tail on the floor. Then she whimpered.
“Is she ok?” Denasia asked.
Amy turned in her arms and began licking her all over. She licked Denasia’s face and neck and arms and hands, over and over again. Her tail wagged against the floor. Denasia giggled, and that seemed to make Amy redouble her efforts.
Later, after they cleaned up the mess on the floor and rinsed both Denasia and Amy off in the shower, and had Denasia in a clean pair of pajamas, Julia flipped on the light in the kitchen and doled out three big bowls of ice cream. It was three-thirty in the morning.
“Were you already awake when you saw it happen?” she asked Denasia, setting a bowl in front of Amy.
“Yes,” Denasia said.
Julia made a mental note to tell Elena about it as soon as possible. Trouble sleeping was a symptom of depression, and if they needed to get Denasia’s medication changed, Julia wanted it done as soon as possible.
Denasia swallowed her mouthful of ice cream. “Amy came into my room,” she said. “I was sleeping, but she licked my hand until I woke up.”
“She woke you up?” Julia said. “She never does that.”
“I thought she wanted to sleep in my bed with me. Is that ok? I know you said she has her own bed, but it’s on the floor and it doesn’t look very comfortable.”
“Did you let her get into bed with you?”
“I tried, but she wouldn’t jump up,” Denasia said. She wiped her mouth off with her sleeve, leaving a sticky trail of chocolate up to her elbow. “She just sat there and whined, so then I thought maybe she needed to go outside or something. But when we got to the living room, she fell down. That’s when I started hugging her.”
“What made you do that?”
“She was so scared. I could see it on her face. I could see it. But hugging her made it better. Didn’t it, Amy?”
Amy lifted her head up at the sound of her name and walked over to put her head in Denasia’s lap.
“You are a very good girl, Amy,” Denasia said, letting the dog lick her spoon.