Chương 3
Lily said nothing.
Yvette set the food on a rolling tray and pushed it close enough to reach.
“No quiz.”
The resident asked another question about shelter.
Yvette looked at him over her glasses.
“Give her five minutes.”
“We need history.”
“You need to learn the difference between urgent and impatient.”
He left.
Lily stared at the crackers.
Yvette adjusted the blood pressure cuff hanging from the wall. She did not look at Lily while she spoke.
“The boy has a fractured pelvis, a spinal contusion, and hypothermia. They’re taking him for more imaging.”
“Can he walk?”
“They don’t know yet.”
Lily’s fingers went numb again, though the room was warm.
“He could talk.”
“That’s good.”
“He knew his name.”
“That’s good too.”
“He told his dad not to leave me.”
Yvette sat on the stool.
“Sounds like he was paying attention.”
“People say things when they’re freezing.”
“They also say things when they mean them.”
Lily opened the crackers. The plastic made too much noise. She ate one slowly, then three quickly, then stopped because Yvette was there.
The nurse pretended to read something on the computer.
After a minute, Lily ate the rest.
A hospital social worker arrived at two in the morning. Her name was Priya Shah, and she wore navy slacks, a long gray cardigan, and running shoes. She carried no clipboard. That made Lily suspicious in a different way.
Priya sat in the chair nearest the door, leaving the exit clear.
“We need to figure out where you can safely sleep tonight.”
“I have a place.”
“Where?”
“I can get there.”
“Is there an adult?”
“Yes.”
“Name?”
Lily looked at the television. A chef was pulling a tray of biscuits from an oven.
Priya waited.
Yvette brought a second juice without asking.
“Her name’s Dee,” Lily said finally.
“Last name?”
“Just Dee.”
“Phone number?”
“Her phone got stolen.”
“Where does she stay?”
“Depends.”
Priya nodded once. “Is Dee over eighteen?”
“Maybe.”
“That usually means no.”
“She knows more than most adults.”
“I believe you.”
Lily looked at her sharply.
Priya folded her hands. “But I can’t release an eleven-year-old into the park at two in the morning to find someone whose last name, age, phone number, and location are unknown.”
“You can’t keep me.”
“I can arrange emergency placement.”
“That’s keeping me.”
“It may feel that way.”
“It is that way.”
Priya did not argue. “Have you been in foster care before?”
Lily slid off the bed.
Yvette moved toward the door, not blocking it, simply occupying the same piece of floor.
“I’m leaving.”
Priya’s voice remained calm. “If you try, hospital security will stop you.”
Lily reached inside her coat pocket. Her fingers closed around a flat brass key, a subway card with forty cents left on it, and a folded photograph softened by rain. The objects were still there. She could survive with those.
She could not survive people deciding she belonged to them.
“I didn’t do anything wrong.”
“No,” Priya said.
“I saved him.”
“Yes.”
“So why am I the one getting locked up?”
No one answered quickly enough.
Lily shoved the crackers from the tray. The empty package fell to the floor.
Yvette bent, picked it up, and threw it away.
“That was stupid,” Lily said.
“I’ve seen worse crimes committed against hospital property.”
“I hate you.”
“You met me an hour ago. Give it time.”
The door opened. Marcus stood in the hallway with Daniel Mercer behind him.
Daniel had removed his wet overcoat. His white shirt was wrinkled and streaked with dirt from the park. He looked less like a billionaire than a man who had been standing under fluorescent lights receiving answers he could not purchase.
Priya rose.
“This is a private assessment.”
“I know,” Daniel said. “I only wanted to tell her Ethan is out of immediate danger.”
Lily did not move.
“Immediate,” she repeated.
“They’re monitoring swelling around his spine. The surgeon says there are reasons to be hopeful.”
“That means they don’t know.”
Daniel’s jaw tightened. “Yes.”
Priya stepped into the hall with him. Their voices lowered, but Lily caught pieces.
Child protective services.
No identified guardian.
Media already outside.
Daniel said, “Media?”
Marcus answered, “Someone filmed the ambulance. They recognized the vehicle.”
“Shut it down.”
“You can’t shut down people’s phones.”
“Then keep her name out of it.”
Lily’s hand closed around the photograph in her pocket.
Priya returned.
“Lily, do you know your mother’s full name?”
“No.”
“You don’t know it, or you don’t want to tell me?”
“No.”
Daniel remained outside the room, visible through the open doorway.
Priya tried again. “Your coat has the name Lily Parker written on the inside label.”
Lily looked down.
The label had been sewn in years earlier, before the coat became oversized on her because hunger had pulled her inward. She had forgotten it was there.
Priya continued gently. “Is Parker your last name?”
Lily said nothing.
Daniel turned to Marcus. “Find out who leaked the location.”
The command in his voice made Lily look up. He still had power. It had returned the moment someone mentioned a problem he understood.
She hated him for that.
She hated that Ethan might never walk.
She hated that her own fingers had started to hurt as warmth returned.
Mostly, she hated the idea that by morning strangers might know her name.
At four fifteen, a child welfare investigator named Elaine Brooks arrived. She spoke plainly, wore a brown wool coat with one missing button, and looked too tired to perform kindness.
She verified Lily’s identity through a missing-person report filed seven months earlier.
Lily Parker. Eleven years old. Mother: Jenna Parker. Father unknown. Last known address: a family shelter in Queens. Mother deceased.
The word sat in the room.
Deceased.
Adults used it because “dead” made them feel responsible for how cold it sounded.
Elaine read from her tablet. “You were placed at Greenridge Children’s Residence in May.”
May you like
Lily stared at the floor.
“You left in June.”
