Lost in the Moment and Found (Wayward Children #8)(38)

The woman lowered her phone. “They can see us right away,” she said. “I can’t thank you enough. I’ll get that reward money. Wait here.”

Antsy nodded. The woman left the room. Antsy slowly drifted toward the fridge, which was covered in pieces of paper held up by bright, colorful magnets. Several were photographs, and her eyes fell on one in specific, showing two teenage girls, one with sleek brown hair and a crooked smile, the other so beautiful that her face was slightly blurred, as if even the camera hadn’t been able to entirely focus on it. Antsy stared at the picture, the static getting louder in the back of her head, and knew that it was the next thing she needed to find.

The woman returned. Antsy indicated the picture. “Who’s this?”

“My daughter, Angela, and her best friend, Seraphina. They go to the same special school.” The woman offered her an envelope, and for a moment Antsy considered refusing to take it. She could probably find her own way if she had to. But it would be easier with money. Everything was easier with money, at least on the worlds that used it.

She took the envelope, not bothering to check the contents before she stuffed it into her pocket. Suddenly, she wondered whether she’d found the kitten because it was something lost that needed finding, or because it was the only reason to be here, in this kitchen, to see that picture, which clearly showed her the next thing she needed to find. Whether it was the girl or the place, she didn’t know, but she supposed she’d find out soon.

“Thank you,” she said gravely.

“No, thank you for bringing Bootsie home. Mommy was so worried about you, baby.” That last was directed to the kitten, who huddled miserably in her arms.

She raised her head and focused on Antsy again. “I’m sorry to rush you out without at least offering something to drink, but I need to get Bootsie to the vet. Thank you again for bringing her back to me.”

Antsy recognized a dismissal when she heard one. She nodded. “It was my pleasure.”

The static grew stronger as she walked toward the door. She knew where she was going next. She just needed to get there.





13

BACK TO SCHOOL




WITH THE STATIC TO guide her, it wasn’t hard for Antsy to find the bus station. She ran her finger down the list of destinations until one of them felt right, then traded half the contents of her envelope for a ticket and some change. The envelope went back into her pocket; the change went for a cheeseburger at the little kiosk inside the station, served hot and greasy and dripping with grilled onions and mustard. It tasted amazing. It tasted like coming home.

It sat in her stomach like a rock as she boarded the bus, one pretty teenager with no possessions, cramming herself into a window seat and leaning her forehead against the glass, trying to figure out how it could all have gone so wrong so quickly. She loved the shop, even after everything, and it needed her. She hadn’t wanted to leave. Yes, it had stolen from her, but it was a place, and it wasn’t the place’s fault that the people who were supposed to take care of it had hidden things from her. She had to get back. She had to save the place she loved from Vineta, who Antsy was not convinced would keep her promise without someone to make her keep it, and all the other people like her, the ones who would allow children to spend themselves to make their own lives a little easier. And yes, some children would choose the doors anyway—the addiction of novelty was real—but they would do so understanding what it cost.

They would understand.

Someone settled in the seat next to her and tried to make conversation. She ignored them as the bus pulled out, watching the land roll by outside in silence. There was so much land. She’d always known worlds were big, but she had been seeing them in two-and three-hour installments for years. This was the longest she’d looked at anything outside the shop since the day she ran away. She didn’t know how to focus on this much space anymore. It was so much.

She rode until the bus pulled up to a stop on a long green highway, miles from any town. The static grew louder. Antsy rose, walking to the front of the bus, and when the doors hissed open, she stepped down, stepped off, stepped out into that big world.

There was a building in the distance, like a manor house, tall and imposing and, as she walked toward it, increasingly ridiculous. It looked like it had been built the same way the shop was, one piece at a time, until the whole had no real harmony with itself. She kept walking, studying the mismatched curtains in the windows, the patches of contrasting paint. It looked familiar.

It looked like home.

There was a sign hanging from the eaves, the words coming clear as she finished walking up the long driveway to the porch. ELEANOR WEST’S HOME FOR WAYWARD CHILDREN, it read, in large letters. Below, in smaller letters, it continued, NO SOLICITATION, NO VISITORS, NO QUESTS.

Antsy swallowed. She was a visitor. Was she on a quest? Still, she walked to the door, raised her hand, and knocked. The static grew briefly louder, then burst like a popped soap bubble, replaced by silence.

Silence, and enough time to feel like she’d made a terrible mistake before she heard footsteps, and the door swung open to reveal a woman not that much younger than Vineta. Her hair was fine and white, standing out in a dandelion corona from her head, and her wrinkled face was kind. She was wearing more colors than Antsy knew could be worn at once, like she had looked at a rainbow once, and thought, “Oh, much too subtle.”