Breadcrumbs by Anne Ursu, Erin Mcguire Page A

either side of the palace, stretching out across the landscape of the paper.
    Hazel felt the presence of the teacher behind her.
    “That’s your sketch?” Ms. Blum asked.
    Hazel nodded. The thing with not being able to draw very well is you didn’t have to spend any time at it.
    “What colors are you going to use?” Ms. Blum motioned to the paint wall.
    “Just white,” said Hazel.
    The teacher stared at the drawing, and then gave Hazel a searching look.
    “This is different for you,” she said.
    “It’s a fort,” Hazel explained. “No one can ever find you there.”
    “That’s very interesting, Hazel,” the teacher finally said.
    “Thank you, Ms. Blum,” said Hazel.
    A second-grade girl sat next to Hazel on the bus and started showing her her sticker collection. The boys were already in the back, but there was no Jack there, either. Hazel wondered what had happened to him. Maybe Jack was pretending to be sick. But that wasn’t logical—it wasn’t like Jack was upset. He was completely happy to be a total jerk.
    Maybe his father had kept him home for the day, just to be safe. His father worried a lot more, now.
    It was possible that he was actually sick. Maybe he got hurt worse than anyone knew. And no one was telling her. She had no information at all. He could be in the hospital hooked up to tubes and beeping things with people in scrubs standing over him whispering dramatically and scribbling on clipboards, and she would have no idea, no one would tell her. Maybe she should go visit him, maybe he needed her, maybe when he saw her the beeping would get stronger and Jack would sit up in bed and the doctors would gasp and scribble about the miracle before their eyes.
    The poison lifted. Her heart breathed free. And—
    “Are you okay?” the second grader asked, closing her sticker album.
    Hazel swallowed and turned to stare out the window at the slushy gray real world.
    On the way from the bus stop, Hazel walked by Jack’s house slowly. She tried to sneak glances at the front windows while at the same time making a show of looking straight ahead. It was not easy.
    And then, from behind her, the sound of a car. Hazel turned. The red station wagon was pulling up in the driveway. Hazel felt a wave rise up inside of her and crash. Jack’s parents got out of the car and began to walk toward the house. No Jack.
    Hazel took a deep breath and called out, “Mr. and Mrs. Campbell?”
    They turned around. Mr. Campbell had his hand lightly on his wife’s back. Hazel didn’t even know she ever left the house.
    “Um, is Jack okay? He wasn’t in school. And—”
    And what? And he was mean.
    And, that.
    Jack’s mother gave her a hazy smile. Something about it made Hazel’s stomach rotate a few degrees. She seemed more human, but still somehow wrong, like they’d gotten the souls mixed up and put the wrong one back inside her.
    “Oh, yes,” Mr. Campbell said. “He’s just fine.”
    “Oh.”
    What did Hazel expect? He went temporarily insane and we took him to a doctor and he got a pill and now he’s better and wants to see you?
    “He’s just gone away for a while,” Mrs. Campbell added.
    Hazel blinked. “What?”
    “He’s gone to live with his dear elderly aunt Bernice,” she said, voice gaining strength. “She needs help, you see. He’s doing just fine, and we needn’t worry.”
    She smiled at Hazel again, and both parents turned and disappeared into the house.

Chapter Eleven
Magical Thinking
    H azel stood staring at the doorstep where Jack’s parents had been. Maybe they would come out, tell her it was all a big joke, tell her Jack would be out in a minute, tell her everything was going to go back to normal.
    But they didn’t.
    Hazel replayed the words Mrs. Campbell had spoken, trying to find the sense in them. But there wasn’t any.
    Her mother agreed. “I didn’t even know he had an elderly aunt,” she said, after Hazel told her what had happened.
    “Me neither,” said