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Zoe
PROLOGUE
BOSTON
She takes my hand,squeezing it tight, and without her saying anything, I know she’s just as sad as I am.
We talk a lot.
In fact, every day since I started living here almost a year ago. Pauline is the only person who can make me smile. My Mom died. She was the only one I had since Dad left for heaven long before her.
I tell stories to my friend because I learned how to read. My Mom used to do that, acting like the characters. It was so funny. I’m not good at that because I read slowly, and sometimes I even stutter, but she never laughs at me, unlike her mother, Aunt Ernestine, the owner of the house where I live now.
Pauline is much older than me. She’s almost twelve now and says she’s not a child but a teenager. Even though she’s almost an adult, she can’t get out of bed because her legs don’t have the strength to walk. She had an accident when she was younger than I am now.
I wish I had the power to get her up and running so she can play with me, but as my teacher said the other day,sometimes we can’t understand God’s will, Zoe.
I don’t know what that means, but it’s not fair.
I found a way to make her happy: I do things in her place. When she wakes up and says she wants to go for a walk in the backyard, I run out of the house. Then I come back with my lungs burning and short of breath. But when I see her smile, I know it was worth it.
The first time I did that, she said I was crazy, but then she started to love the idea and now always asks me for things.
“Zoe, go outside and feel the rain for me.”
“Zoe, tell me about the cutest boy in your school. He’s going to be my secret boyfriend.”
“Zoe, how does it feel to jump really high?”
I swing my feet, sitting on her bed. They don’t touch the floor yet because her bed is high—it’s a hospital bed, and it cost a fortune. Aunt Ernestine always says that, as if it’s Pauline’s fault it cost so much. We used to joke, trying to guess when I would finally be big enough to get my feet touching the floor.
Now, we’ll never know because I’m leaving this house forever.
“Do you promise to come and get me when you’re rich?”
I look at her and smile, which helps to soothe the pain I feel in my chest.
I’ve been secretly crying for a week. Ever since I found out I was going to live in an orphanage again. I’m very, very sad.
My so-calledauntreached out to the government man and said she was goingto give me back to the statebecause the money she got to let me live here wasn’t enough. She has other children here, too, so I don’t understand why I’m the only one who’s going to be sent back.
“How am I going to be rich, Pauline?” I ask. “My piggy bank only has two dollars from when I helped Mrs. Nole pick up the leaves in the yard.”
“Remember our deal? You are me, so you do things for me? Well, I dream of becoming a famoustop model. Gorgeous,on the runway, modeling, and with all the men in the world crazy about me. The thing is that will never happen because I can’t walk.”
“What is atop model?” I ask, trying the name on my tongue and finding it funny.
“They are very beautiful girls who walk on a ramp or are photographed. They get clothes for free and travel all over the world.”
“It must be really cool.”
“Yes, Zoe. It’s the best job in the world! Promise me that you will do this for me and that wherever you go, in any country, you will remember that.”
“I know your mother is sending me away, but does that mean I’ll never see you again, Pauline?”
She looks at me weirdly, as if she knows a secret and doesn’t want to tell me.
“I’m not sure, Zoe. Either way, when you feel sad and alone, look up at the sky and think of me. I will always think of you, too.”
