Free Lost Boys by Orson Scott Card

Only she didn’t even realize he was missing for ten hours. Can you believe that? I may not know what my children are doing every second, but I know where they are. ”
    â€œJenny, I like your kids, they’re not a problem.”
    â€œGood. So do I. This evening you bring your family on down to my house for supper. We’re two blocks up Chinqua Penn that way, turn right on Wally—that’s a street, not a bum in the road—and we’re five doors down on the right.”
    â€œI really couldn’t put you out for supper—my kitchen is put together now, so—”
    â€œI’m sure you’re really looking forward to thinking up some kind of supper and stopping your unpacking long enough to prepare it,” said Jenny.
    DeAnne couldn’t pretend that Jenny wasn’t right, and besides, her mind was still back on what Jenny had said before. “That woman whose little boy was missing. Did they find him?”
    â€œI don’t know,” said Jenny. “I never heard. By the way, in case you’re wondering, I don’t cook southern, I cook western. That means that there won’t be nothin’ deep-fried or even pan-fried. And I cook western ranch , not western Mormon , which means you won’t be getting some tuna casserole and a Jell-O salad, it’ll be an oven roast and baked potatoes and gravy, and I already bought enough for your whole crew so don’t make it go to waste, just say yes and show up at six.”
    That was that. Jenny finished the box, called her kids, plunged out the door, and the kids straggled along behind her. DeAnne felt invigorated by Jenny’s visit. Even better, she felt at home , because she knew somebody now, she had a friend.
    She looked at her watch. It was two-thirteen. She was supposed to be at school to pick Stevie up in two minutes.
    She bustled into the bedroom and dragged the kids out of bed—Robbie was actually asleep , today of all days—made them carry their shoes and socks out to the car and managed to get to that parking lot on the top of the bluff overlooking the school by twenty after. There were still a billion cars and parents there, or anyway more than the parking lot was designed to handle, and tons of children around—but no Stevie. He must have come up the hill and looked around and then, following her instructions, headed back down to wait for her in the principal’s office.
    She managed to get both of Elizabeth’s shoes on her at the same time, and Robbie got his own on with the velcro straps fastened down—thank heaven for velcro. It was almost two-thirty when she finally herded the children into the front of the school. The last of the buses was just pulling away. Stevie was sitting in Dr. Mariner’s office. The second he saw her, he was on his feet and heading out the door.
    â€œJust a moment, Mrs. Fletcher,” said the secretary.
    DeAnne turned back to face her.
    â€œIf you aren’t able to pick up your child on time, may I suggest that you have him ride the bus? Or arrange for the after-school program?”
    â€œI’ll be on time from now on,” said DeAnne. “Or we’ll set him up for the bus.”
    â€œBecause this room is not a holding area for children, it’s a working office,” said the secretary.
    â€œYes, I’m sorry,” said DeAnne. “It won’t happen again.”
    â€œWe like children very much here,” said the secretary, “but we must reserve this area for adult business, and we appreciate it when our parents are thoughtful enough not to—”
    â€œYes,” said DeAnne, “I can promise you that the only way I’ll be late to pick him up again is if I’m dead. Thank you very much.” Seething inside, she left the office, Elizabeth on her hip and Robbie in tow. Stevie was waiting at the front door of the school.
    â€œI wasn’t very late,” said DeAnne. “But I