Sara Lost and Found Read Online Free

nightshirts are torn, and we’re both streaked with dirt. I knock on the door, wondering if any kids are already staying with them. It’s okay if they are. I have a plan B. We’ll run away again, only this time back to our old house. No one would think to look for us there. And even if they locked it all up, I have a way to get in—a secret way that nobody knows about. Not even Anna.
    Ben opens the door, takes one look at us, and gasps. He pulls us into a hug, not even minding about the stickers that are poking into his arms. He smells like toothpaste and shaving cream. We smell like dirt and scared stuff, all rolled into one.
    â€œGirls! What happened? What are you doing here in your nightclothes and no shoes?”
    â€œRun away,” Anna blurts, clutching her doll and dropping her chin to her chest.
    As he ushers us in, the phone rings. We all jump. When Ben answers it, I can tell by his face and voice that it’s Mrs. Craig.
    â€œYes, they’re both here. No, they’re fine. Yes, yes. Of course we will. Tomorrow?” He looks at us. We both shake our heads as hard as they will shake.
    â€œHow about a couple of days?”
    I hold my breath. Will they let us stay?
    â€œOkay. We’ll wait to hear from you.” He hangs up the phone and turns to us. “When she sees you and hears what you have done, Rachel will put extra marks on your charts!”
    â€œBen is right!” a voice says. Rachel Silverman shuffles sleepily into the room and smothers us with hugs. Her accent is heavy. “Look at you two! For this you get maybe two marks on your charts. Yes, maybe even more. Now you have to earn three stars to get the marks off.”
    The charts she is talking about are kept on the refrigerator with spaces for stars and marks. For every three stars earned for good behavior, we get one mark removed. For every three marks against us for not being so good, we lose a star.
    If we earn five stars and no marks, we get to pick out a treat at the ninety-nine-cent store. If we get all marks and no stars, we have to visit Ms. Thistleberry, the Silvermans’ neighbor, who is as prickly as her name.
    It’s not so bad, really, going to Ms. Thistleberry’s. We listen to her complain about every creaky joint she has for two whole hours while peeling vegetables. I like peeling vegetables. I don’t tell Rachel, but it’s kind of fun to hear about all of Ms. Thistleberry’s new creaky spots.
    Ms. Thistleberry lives by herself and makes vegetable soups, which people in the neighborhood buy in bucketfuls. Anna and I have peeled a lot of vegetables for Ms. Thistleberry’s soups.
    â€œCome,” Rachel says, taking our hands. “Let’s get some hot cocoa into you and clean you up. A mud bath you will make in my tub.” Even though she sounds like she’s mad, I know she’s as happy to see us as we are to see her.
    I look across the hardwood floor toward the kitchen and smile. Ben is already heating up the cocoa. I can see him because the wall between the kitchen and dining room is solid cupboards that open on both sides, and the doors are glass on both sides too, like windows.
    A fat pot-bellied stove sits to one side. The crackling fire heats both rooms. As we shuffle toward the kitchen, I look around at the furniture. Ben made it all. He’s good with his hands. He also put wood around all the windows. Ben’s windows shut tight. No wind gets through them!
    The walls have pictures, not of people, but of mountains, meadows, and the ocean. They’re so real, it feels like I can step into them and be there, wherever “there” is. The other thing the Silvermans have is a bowl of fish. I bend down and stare, wondering what we must look like to them.
    What strange animals they have in this zoo! I picture the orange one saying to the blue. What are they called again?
    And the blue one would put a fin on his chin and think hard.