Free Sara Lost and Found by Virginia Castleman Page B

when Ben could only take one of us to the library
    â€œDon’t worry about how much anything costs,” Mrs. MacMillan says, breaking into my thoughts. I am trying to read a price tag. I’m better with numbers than with words. Anna is better with words, which is funny, since she hardly talks.
    â€œThis is my treat,” she adds, holding up a cotton dress. “This will look so good on you!”
    We take clothes off, put clothes on, take them off, and put them on, till my ears feel like they’re going to fall off from all that pulling.
    Finally, we decide on two matching sundresses—one for me and one for Anna. Mrs. MacMillan also buys us two pairs of shorts with shirts to match, and sandals. My bag alone bulges as round as Big Ed’s belly back at the bakery by our real house.
    We get in line at the checkout when a lady walks in. I stare, unable to move or speak. It’s Mama. I look over at Anna to see if she sees her too, but Anna’s too busy thumbing through magazines to notice.
    I can’t let Mama get away, and race after her.
    â€œI knew you’d come back!” I shout, startling her, judging by how she jolts to a stop and turns, right as I throw my arms around her. “Nobody believed me, but I told them you would come back.” She feels different, or maybe I just grew taller in the time she’s been gone.
    â€œHoney—” Mrs. MacMillan rushes up and pulls gently at my arm that’s still wrapped tightly around Mama.
    â€œI’m so sorry,” Mrs. MacMillan tells the lady. “She lost her mother recently—”
    â€œOh, you poor thing,” the woman says, stroking my head.
    I jerk back. That’s not Mama’s voice.
    I look up. Mama doesn’t have brown eyes.
    â€œCome back in line, Sara. It was an honest mistake.” She tells the stranger sorry again and guides me back to the line. I want to melt. Disappear. Everyone in line is looking at me, whispering to each other.
    â€œPoor thing.”
    â€œHow sad.”
    â€œThat woman must have been freaked out, having some strange kid grabbing her.”
    I drop my head so I don’t have to see them. I can still hear them, but something else is screaming in my head : It was Mama. It was. It was her! Then another screaming thought tromps all over that one: What were you thinking? Don’t you even know your own mother?
    I try to push that thought away because it makes tears crop up from nowhere, stinging my eyes. I can’t wait to get out of the store. I will never come to this stupid store ever, ever again.
    When we reach the car, I scramble in the back while Mrs. MacMillan and Anna put the packages in the trunk. When Mrs. MacMillan gets in, she cranks her head around and looks at me. “Are you okay?”
    I look out the window and don’t say anything.
    â€œI’ve had that happen before. Thought someone was somebody else. Our minds can play tricks on us.”
    I don’t want to think about it anymore, and keep staring out the window. She turns back, starts the car, and finally gets us away from there.
    The drive back to the MacMillans’ is silent, except for the pop, pop, pop as Anna yanks Abby apart.
    When we pull into the driveway, Mrs. MacMillan grins. “Oh, good. The boys are back.” She turns to look over the seat and says, “So long as you don’t stray too far, you can take a look around the neighborhood and maybe meet some of the other kids on the block.
    â€œThey’re usually at the park at the end of the street,” she adds. “Dan and I will come and get you in about fifteen minutes.”
    A bit of space sounds great. I quickly pop Anna’s doll back together and hand it to her. She says, “Bathroom,” and I nod. I’ll wait.
    When she comes back out, she sees Sneaker under a bush and scoops her up, carrying the cat in one hand, Abby in the other.
    There are only a few kids in the park when we get