We reach Hardin. We stop at Dairy Queen, and everyone gets half a hamburger. We could afford more, but we want to save our money for lunch tomorrow. After that, we'll have to do some shoplifting. The twins are back to their cheerful moods, wide-eyed and staring at everything around them.
"I remember this," Aya says, "do you?" Alina's forehead wrinkles.
"It just looks like any other Dairy Queen," Alina says. Aya shakes her head.
"Look out the window," Aya says. Alina looks around.
"Yeah!" she says, "There's where Rebecca's dad works, and Mel's mom works there!"
"And our babysitter's house is down that street," Aya says, "And our house is that way, then a left."
"Can we go by our house?" Aya asks, "Can we? Can we?"
"Sure," Mitch says. We all jump into the truck, sardine style. Aya and Alina are squirming like worms and climbing over laps to gaze out windows. They shout the directions to the house, and squeal as they point out people they recognize. Their high spirits are contagious, and even Silas cracks a smile.
The truck turns around a corner. It's like someone hit the mute button. Alina freezes mid-laugh, her almond-shaped eyes getting impossibly wider, but with horror instead of excitement. Aya's mouth falls open. Even the air seems to grow still. I follow Alina's gaze to a house-sized gap between two buildings.
The ground is overun with weeds, most coming up to Alina's waist. A cement square sits in the middle of the weeds, like an island in an ocean. A few charred and black stones rest in uneven piles around the perimeter of the foundation. In what must have once been the back yard, stands an twisted, dead tree, a playhouse snug tight in its upper branches. The fraying rope ladder sways in the breeze. The lot is ghostlike, a shadow of the happy home it had once been.
Alina gives a high-pitched cry, then hides her face on Silas's shoulder. Silas holds her and rubs her back.
"Aya!" Mitch calls. I look up to see Aya running toward the lot. She drops onto her knees. Her hair blows with the wind, like sideways black fire. Mitch runs up next to her and kneels down. Aya clings to Mitch like she's drowning. Mitch strokes Aya's hair. After awhile, Aya stands up and starts looking around. Alina gets out too, and holds Aya's hand. They look around, as if searching for a sign of something familiar, something comforting. They crawl up into the playhouse. Mitch murmurs for them to be careful. Alina utters that high-pitched cry again. There's silence, until Mitch looks like she's going to go up there and get them down. Then Aya emerges, a painful, tear-stained smile on her face. Alina crawls down after her, holding something in her hand.
"I-it's Jenna's," Alina stammers, holding up the doll, "One of the o-o-other foster kids. She would never-ver have left without it." Alina burst into tears. Aya put her arm around her sister.
"Jenna was... almost as young as us," Aya says. She looks around the field and shutters. A sinking feeling comes over me. I begin to tremble as I realize what has happened. Silas swears.
"It can't be," I manage to say, "It just can't." Mitch comes over and hugs the two girls.
"Ready to go?" she asks. Alina can't answer, Aya can only nod her head. Mitch leads the two girls to the van and helps them up. We all get back in, as somber as a funeral party. Aya squeezes Alina's hand.
"We just gotta be strong," I hear her whisper to Alina, "strong and brave like Mitch. If you just can be strong, everything will be all right."
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