Free Winter Sky by Patricia Reilly Giff

gripping the floor.
    “You know this place,” Siria told him.
    He didn’t move.
    “I’ll bring you food. Lots of food. You can go out whenever you like.”
    It was almost as if he understood her. He turned his head away.
    Someone upstairs rang for the elevator; the doors were closing. “Please,” she said, even though she knew it was useless. And then she realized they could go upstairs to the empty apartment.
    She pressed the button for five.

CHAPTER 17
    Inside the apartment, she stood there listening as the dog wandered from the living room toward the bedrooms. What did she hear? The click of his claws against the wood floor. But something else. Was someone whispering? She backed away toward the door, hardly making a sound.
    “Who let you in?” the voice said. A boy, talking to the dog.
    She had to pass the hallway.
    Could he see her?
    She tripped over something under her feet, and glanced down. A green jacket.
    “Hey!” The voice again.
    She ran. Slid out the door. Down the hall. Never mind the elevator. Grabbed the handrail and dashed up the stairs, two at a time.
    And rushed inside to Mimi. Safe. Not even thinking of locking the door behind her.
    “Where have you been?” Mimi asked. “And the dog?”
    Siria sank down on the living room couch. “Gone.” She raised her shoulders.
    “Ran away? I’m sorry about him,” Mimi said. “But maybe it’s just as well.” Then she smiled. “Izzy is on her way over with a tree. Your father will be here tomorrow.”
    Siria reached out and danced Mimi around the kitchen. Pop home! Getting better! Sitting in his big chair. “Oh, Mimi. I’ll be so glad.”
    In front of them, the door opened a few inches.
    Mimi turned. And Siria …
     … eyes widening.
    The dog!
    He went past them into her bedroom, Siria thinking,
He acts as if he belongs here. If only he did
.
    Then,
How did he get out of that apartment? And who was in there?
    She closed the door and locked it, feeling someone’s hand pushing from the other side.
    “It’s me,” Izzy called. She and Almo carried in a tree, smelling of pine and outdoors.
    “Happy holidays.” Almo took a plateful of cookies they’d saved for him and left.
    “We have to hurry,” Izzy said. “Ornaments. Presentswrapped. Decorations. Everything just right!” She hugged Siria. “I told you. Home for Christmas.”
    “He’s going to get a surprise.” Mimi’s eyebrows were raised.
    Izzy reached for one of Mimi’s butter cookies. “Mmm. Wonderful.” She turned to Siria. “A perfect present?”
    Siria took a cookie, too. “Maybe not perfect.”
    “Definitely not perfect,” Mimi said. “And definitely not a present.”
    Siria took Izzy into her messy room. The dog looked up at her from the bed, his great dark eyes like molasses. A patch of quilt was caught in his mouth.
    Izzy sank down on the edge of the bed and gently pulled the quilt away. “He’s gorgeous. Chewing on things. He can’t be more than two or three years old.” Izzy’s face was plain, but her smile made it beautiful.
    “I’m so glad you like him.”
    “You can’t keep him, though. Your father …” Izzy broke off.
    “Would you take him?”
    Izzy put her hand on Siria’s head. “Oh, honey, I just took the cat.”
    Siria went down to the storage room and brought up the boxes of ornaments: her mother’s silver Santa Claus, the drawing Siria had made in kindergartenof Pop’s shield, glass icicles that shimmered in the light.
    She hung garlands in the living room, remembering last year. Douglas had helped her, standing on a ladder. She felt a pain in her chest.
Douglas. Someone setting fires. And the dog. Oh, the dog
.
    Siria glanced at Mimi, her voice thick. “This dog would make a wonderful watchdog for someone.”
    Mimi held up her hands. “Not for me. And not for you. Before your father gets home, we’ll have to find a place for him.” She shook her head. “Christmas Eve. Everything’s closed.” Her voice trailed off. “We’ll