HARPER FLOPPED WEARILY ONTO THE COUCH, UNWRAPPED A SNACK-SIZE Crunch bar, popped it in her mouth, and washed it down with a swallow of warm Coke. She shone the flashlight on the candy—which she’d divided into two piles—picked up a licorice stick from the nut-free pile, pulled off the wrapper, leaned back on the couch, and took a bite. Chewing slowly, she shone the flashlight around the living room, but when the beam passed over the dog bed, something caught her eye. She stopped, retraced the light’s path, and got up to lift the edge of the bed so she could read the letters that were embroidered there. “Keeper,” she said softly. “So that was your name.”
She walked to the bedroom and shone the light on the pictures on the bureau, picked up the double frame, and held the flashlight so there wasn’t a glare on the glass. Then she stared. Was she seeing things? She’d noticed the bandage on the dog’s leg before, but now she realized he was actually missing a leg! How the heck did a dog get around on three legs?
She set the picture down, turned away, and felt her foot catch on something soft. Startled, she shone the flashlight on the floor and saw the pile of shirts that had fallen out of Mr. Peterson’s drawer. She stuffed them back in, pulled the baseball shirt over her head, squeezed it in on top, and shoved the drawer closed. Then she retrieved the bat and hat from the living room and put them back in the closet, too.
She took another sip of Coke and rubbed her chest. “Stop hurting,” she whispered. She heard a sound outside and knelt on the cushions to peek out. By the light of the streetlamp, she saw a woman walking across the parking lot and realized it was Cora. She frowned—why had she parked her car all the way over there and not in her usual spot? She continued to watch and then saw Cora lean over to pick something up.
“Rudy’s bike,” Harper muttered, shaking her head. She watched Cora push the bike up onto the sidewalk, lean it against the building, and go inside, and when her porch light blinked out, Harper felt a crushing wave of sadness sweep over her. She dropped the curtain and slumped on the couch, her eyes filling with tears. Was her life always going to be this way? If so, maybe she’d be better off dead. The thought made her tears spill over and stream down her cheeks, and she didn’t even try to stop them. In fact, if she did die, Cora’s life would be a whole lot easier. She wouldn’t have to put up with her fresh mouth anymore, or try to find her a home. She could just take care of her own kids. She wrapped her arms around her legs and bowed her head. If only her mom hadn’t died. If only she could find her dad. If only something good would happen! She huddled like that for a long time, her heart aching not only with physical pain but also with loneliness.
Finally, she wiped her eyes, looked up, and saw the moonlight shining on the dog bed, illuminating the embroidered name. “Were you a keeper?” she asked softly. She gazed up at the moon above the curtain and remembered something Mary had said when she stayed with them. “‘I see the moon, and the moon sees me,’” she murmured. “‘God bless the moon, and God bless me.’” The memory filled her eyes with fresh tears.
Resolutely, she bit her lip and wiped her eyes. She was done crying. She didn’t want to stay in this empty apartment. She missed Cora and Rudy, and she wanted to sleep on the squeaky cot in Rudy’s room. Hiding wasn’t making her feel better. It was making her feel worse! She hadn’t figured out one thing about living on her own, and she was hungry. She popped the last piece of licorice in her mouth, swept the rest of the candy into her backpack, folded the afghan, laid it over the back of the couch, and stuffed the bag she’d filled with snacks from Cora’s—which were almost gone—into her backpack next to Bear. She slung it over her shoulder, picked up her Coke, and shone the flashlight around the room one last time. Everything was just the way she’d found it, less two cans of Coke, which she doubted anyone would miss. She switched off the flashlight, put it in the drawer next to the TV remote, walked to the door, pushed in the locking device, and turned it. Then she stepped outside, and without a second thought, pulled the door closed. If she ever changed her mind, she knew how to get back in.
She pulled her sweatshirt around her and walked around to the front, and as she closed the squeaky gate, a gust of wind swept around the building and practically pushed her to Cora’s.