Free Until I Find Julian by Patricia Reilly Giff Page A

to find her before she gets on a train.
    I stumble over the curb, stubbing my toe. My eyes tear. I don’t even know her last name.
    Suppose I never see her again?
    The train station is a block ahead now; I raise my head, searching. I take the steps to the platform two at a time, and slide onto the nearest bench, my chest heaving. Sit, I tell myself, just for a second.
    From there, I can see the length of the station. It’s totally empty; a few overhead lights cast a yellow glow across the platform and shine on the tracks. It’s late; no one’s there…
    Except for the figure huddled on a wooden bench, under one of the lights, all the way down at the end.
    I stare at the tracks. They run a long way, partners, next to each other, before they disappear into the dark. There’s no train in sight. I have a few minutes to figure things out, so I stay where I am, thinking. What can I say that will make her come back?
    But then I go toward her, still not sure what will make her change her mind. I sit down next to her, but I can’t think of a single word.
    Her feet are up on the bench, her arms circling her knees. Her fingers and hair are so much cleaner than the first time I saw her.
    “Let’s go home,” I say.
    She doesn’t answer.
    “Come on, Angel.”
    She turns her head away.
    “I don’t even think there’ll be a train this late.”
    She rests her head on her knees. “One will come along sooner or later, and I’ll be on it.” She shrugs. “I’ll send the money back; you know I will.”
    She’s been crying, and now tears slip down her cheeks. “Don’t cry.”
    She brushes furiously at her cheeks. “I never cry.”
    “I’m sorry.” I raise my shoulders, trying to think of what I’ve done.
    “I don’t belong here,” she says.
    I shake my head. “I don’t either.”
    “I don’t belong anywhere.”
    Belong.
I can almost see Abuelita’s thick gray braid swinging, her hands rough as she slips the medal and chain around my neck. Mami sings at the stove, turning to pop a spoonful of rice pudding into my mouth. There’s Lucas spinning around, grinning at me. And outside, the cat purrs as she feels the sun on her back.
    “Maybe you don’t have to belong in a place,” I say slowly. “Maybe it has to do with belonging to people.”
    “I don’t have people,” Angel says.
    “Why aren’t you home with…” I hesitate. “Your grandfather?”
    She turns to me, her eyes huge, swimming with tears, her voice so low I can hardly hear her. “My brother, Diego, is my family, but now he’s in the army.” She wipes her eyes. “He says that will help him become a citizen; we’ll live legally in Texas someday. We’ll even bring our grandfather.”
    She stops talking, and I wait.
    “Diego doesn’t know that I’m not with our grandfather.”
    She looks at the tracks. Is that a train in the distance? “I can’t even write to Diego. Can’t write…” Her voice trails off. “I wanted to go to school so much.”
    The train wails. I grab her arm. No way is she going to get on that train.
    But it seems as if she hasn’t even heard the rumble on the tracks. “Just before my mother died, we were living in Texas, then Mexico, back and forth. I never knew my father. I was late starting school, but my teacher was friendly, even though she knew how far behind I was.”
    I reached for her hand.
    “But then Diego and I were picking crops, so I didn’t go to school. He took me to our grandfather’s in Mexico, and I started school all over again. I was so tall, so much older than the others. The little kids in my class laughed at me. I just about knew the alphabet. I lasted only a few days.”
    She glances along the tracks, sees the train, and stands. I stand with her, still holding her hand.
    She begins again. “My grandfather was furious with me. ‘No one lives here who doesn’t go to school.’ I never told him I couldn’t read. And after Diego left, we had our last argument. I walked out.”
    She raises