Free Once Was a Time by Leila Sales Page B

on finding any relatives you might have out there, anyone who could be wondering where you are. That’s part of my job.”
    I gave him a weak smile. Good luck with that, Mr. Babcock.
    Eventually Miss Timms had to go to work. “Please call me, or stop by the library, once you’re settled,” she asked. “I want to know that you’re okay.”
    â€œThank you for breakfast,” I replied, and I watched her walk away from me.
    I spent a long time waiting in Mr. Babcock’s office. I didn’t mind too much, though, since he had a shelf full of books. One of them was called The Baby-Sitters Club #4: Mary Anne Saves the Day , and I read almost all of it before Mr. Babcock said to me, “Charlotte, I’ve found a family for you to stay with. Do you want to go over to their house to meet them?”
    â€œYes . . . ” I said dubiously, holding my place in the book with my finger.
    â€œI promise they’re very nice,” he said. “You don’t need to worry. I know it’s been hard up to now, but you’ll be safe there.”
    â€œI’m not worried,” I told him. “I just . . . Could I stay here a little while longer? So I can finish the book?” I held up The Baby-Sitters Club #4: Mary Anne Saves the Day.
    â€œYou know what?” he said. “You can take it with you.”
    â€œReally?” I squealed. “Thank you ever so much, Mr. Babcock!”
    He blinked a few times. “Just Chris is fine.”
    He drove me over to my new house. I liked it instantly. It was brick, considerably smaller than Jake and Noah’s house, although it still had its own front yard. There were houses on either side, which made me feel better—the buildings on Jake’s street were spaced so far from one another that it felt like an alien planet. Best of all, we drove past the library on the way, and the house seemed to be close by. I would be able to walk to visit Miss Timms.
    A woman and man opened the door to the house as we stopped in front of it. They looked at least a decade older than my parents, maybe more. The woman was wearing trousers, an untucked button-down shirt, and silly pink sandals with big flowers on the toes. The man wore shorts with images of red fish sewn onto them.
    â€œHi, Chris!” the woman called as Mr. Babcock and I walked up the front stairs. She gave me a small hug and a kiss on the cheek. I tried not to flinch. “You must be Charlotte,” she said, holding me back so she could look me in the eye. “Hi, Charlotte. Welcome home.”

Chapter 12
    The woman introduced herself as Melanie, and the man in the fish-patterned shorts said he was Keith. They didn’t offer their surnames, so I reckoned “Melanie” and “Keith” were just what I had to call them. I tried to anagram their names but stopped as soon as I rearranged the letters in “Melanie” to spell “Mean lie.”
    Melanie—who did not seem like a mean liar—led us into the kitchen, and she and Keith spoke with Mr. Babcock for a while until eventually it was time for him to go.
    â€œCall me if you need anything, Charlotte,” Mr. Babcock said. “Anything at all. Here’s my number and e-mail.”
    He handed me a little cream-colored card. I stared at it and didn’t say anything.
    â€œI’ll be back to check on you tomorrow,” Mr. Babcock went on. “But remember that you can call me twenty-four seven.”
    The numbers “twenty-four seven” were not printed on the cream-colored card, so I didn’t know what Mr. Babcock meant. I also didn’t know how I would call him, even if something terrible happened and I needed help right away. I hadn’t yet seen a telephone anywhere in Melanie and Keith’s house. Maybe they shared one with their neighbors.
    After Mr. Babcock left, Melanie said, “Let me show you to your room, Charlotte.”
    I followed her up the