Tiptoeing down the hall, I pause at her bedroom door. I can’t risk surprising her, because it might wake up Dad. I head back to Sutton instead. Between the cereal in her box and the milk, it’s close to a meal.
“I’m going to get you breakfast in the morning,” I tell her, “so you can finish this now.”
“Something hot?” she asks hopefully.
“Definitely.” I give her the bowl. “And you’re going to school tomorrow.”
“I miss school.” She takes a bite of cereal and screws up her nose. “This milk tastes funny.”
“It’s special milk,” I tell her, making up something on the spot to account for its sourness. “It has special minerals in it, so you don’t get sick like Mom.”
She buys the explanation and finishes it up, even forcing herself to drink the remaining milk in the bowl. When she’s done, she licks her lips. “Sterling, I’m still hungry.”
There’s something hot and wet sliding down my cheeks. I swipe at the tears, feeling betrayed by own body. “I didn’t have anything else to give her,” I tell Adair. “She was fucking starving—they told me later. And I was just going to school and living my life, and my baby sister was starving to death.”
Adair is quiet for a second, then she crawls over and climbs onto my lap. Her arms wrap around my shoulders, a hand cradling my neck, and she draws my face to her chest. “You were a kid,” she says softly. “You shouldn’t have been dealing with any of that.”
“Who else was going to deal with it?” I ask the question I’d asked a million times since then. “Nobody cared. The school saw me showing up every day in the same clothes. They didn’t say anything. The shelter gave me a bed and tried not to ask questions. You know why?”
Adair waits, as if she senses that this is a conversation I need to have alone.
“Because as long as people can say they’re trying, they don’t have to feel badly. I mean, I had food and somewhere to sleep most nights thanks to them. They couldn’t do anything else, right? Some parents are shitty. Some kids have to get stuck with them. I thought I was doing my sister a favor. Being invisible is a helluva lot better than watching your dad beat the crap out of your brother every night. Most of the time, Mom was pretty good at lying low. At least, I thought she was.” I laugh, and the sound is so distant it’s almost like it’s coming from somewhere else. “Until…”
“She got sick?” Adair guesses.
I shake my head, my brain trying to stop the words from coming out. “She wasn’t sick. That was the problem.”
The sound of children screeching wakes me, and I sit up to see a blur of white outside the window. My limbs are stiff. Not just from sleeping on the ground, but also from the chilly air. I guess the heating bill didn’t get paid. Getting up, I discover a blanket of snow on the fire escape outside. Another joyful scream rises in the air as my heart sinks. If the kids playing below are any indication, it’s a snow day.
No school. No breakfast. No lunch. No safe place to stash Sutton while I figure out what to do next.
Sutton sits up in bed, rubbing sleep from her eyes, and grabs her blanket. She clutches it to her tiny body. “It’s cold.”
“Yep, but it snowed.” I grin widely to distract her from her chattering teeth.
“Am I going to school?” She glances at her alarm clock, and her face falls.
“No school today,” I say quickly. “We’re having an adventure instead. We’re going to see the city.”
“Where are we going?” she asks as I look for the warmest clothing I can find in her drawers, then toss them on her bed. It takes me a minute to find her winter coat. It’s still shoved in the back of her closet. The coat is two sizes too small, but it’s better than nothing.
“Let’s see.” I search for places that will definitely be open and warm. “The library?”
“Yes” She lights up. Sutton loves reading almost as much as I do. “The zoo?”
“It’s a little cold for the zoo, kid.” I grab two pairs of socks.
“Not for the polar bears.” She pulls on the first pair.
“I’m going to leave Mom a note,” I tell her. With any luck, there’s a little money in the stash Mom keeps hidden in the cabinet. It’s for emergencies, but I’m pretty sure this qualifies. Sutton needs food, and maybe I can check on Mom, get her some medicine.
Dad’s chair is empty, and I breathe a sigh of relief. He went to work, which means I don’t have to sneak around. I open the kitchen cabinet next to the oven and stretch my fingers to the back of the shelf until they skim across cold metal. It takes me a second to get the old coffee canister down. When I pop open the lid, I find three dollars. It’s enough for a hot dog. Maybe a slice if Tommy at the place on the corner is in a good mood. At least it will be hot, and to Sutton it will seem like a treat.
I pocket the bills and head back down the hall. Mom’s door is cracked, and I poke my head in, calling a soft, “Hello?”
She doesn’t answer. I can see her on the bed, even though the room is still dark. I hesitate. Maybe I should let her sleep, especially if she’s sick. I glance toward Sutton’s door across the hall. It takes me a second to realize that if mom is really sick, she might need to see a doctor. If
