Finding Someplace by Denise Lewis Patrick Page A

building looming against that dingy sky. Across the park next to it, two half-grown kids were wallowing in the snow, whooping and laughing.
    Rainbow colors were all she could make out through the fogged-up windows of the Hillside school cafeteria, where the little kids waited to be picked up. The door flew open and Jazz flew out.
    â€œSnow again!” She was as thrilled as those kids in the park. Reesie smiled but didn’t show any teeth. Hers were chattering anyway.
    â€œYeah,” she answered. “So, what trouble did you get into today?”
    Jazz grabbed her hand, and Reesie felt a funny little flutter inside. It was nice to be around little kids.
    â€œNo trouble. I made up a new song!”
    Jazz was dancing in the snow, using her footprints to make swirls and loops. She was always dancing … or singing.
    â€œBooonie! Booonie Girls! Aunty Jean and you make two! Boo—”
    Reesie loved being a “big sister,” but she wasn’t feeling Jazz’s little song. They really weren’t the Boone family anymore, with Daddy still in New Orleans four months after he promised they would be together.
    Jazz stopped, swung her braids, and put her hands on her hips.
    â€œYou’re mad. You’re not my make-believe sister anymore?”
    Everything she’d let build up inside shook Reesie at once: fury, confusion, and shame. She looked away from Jazz so she wouldn’t explode.
    â€œYes,” she finally said. “Yes, I’m your make-believe sister.”
    â€œStill?” Jazz managed to skip ahead a few paces.
    â€œStill,” Reesie said, pulling her house key out. “But you know, I’ll be going back home one day.”
    â€œTo New Orleans?” They shook their boots off on the steps of the wide yellow house.
    â€œYes. To New Orleans.”
    Jazz shook her head, and the tassels on her striped elf hat swung around her head. “Noooo…,” she said slowly. “There’s no more New Orleans!”
    Reesie wasn’t about to argue with a six-year-old, and she wondered if maybe Jazz was right. What if home wasn’t really home anymore?
    She blinked at the wreath her mother and aunt had made of huge scarlet poinsettias and hung on the dark-wood-and-stained-glass front doors. Snow had blown across the porch, almost covering something lying near the tiny potted Christmas tree by the mailbox. Jazz bent to pick it up.
    â€œRee-see Boo-ne,” she read out loud proudly. “You got a package!” She shoved the brown-paper-wrapped rectangle at Reesie, then stood on her toes to get the rest of the mail from the box.
    Reesie unlocked the front door and almost tripped over the stuffed animal zoo scattered in the front hall. She peeled off her layers, dropped them at the foot of the stairs, and glanced at the return address on the box. Her heart sped up. It was from Daddy!
    She ripped and tossed paper on her way to the living room, glad that Jazz had made a beeline for cookies and milk.
    A leather, emerald green sketchbook was tucked between sheets of green tissue paper. Reesie slowly thumbed through the pages. They were all blank, big enough for design sketches on one side with space for fabric swatches and notes on the other. She closed the book gently.
    Though she loved her art class, no one in it knew she wanted to become a fashion designer. And she couldn’t remember the last time she’d sewn anything or drawn even a stick figure wearing clothes. How did he know?
    A smaller box of colored pencils had fallen onto the cushion beside her … and there was a note.
    Reesie—Thought I’d get a head start on the Christmas shopping. Hope you can use this. Show me some outrageous design when I see you on Christmas Eve!
    Love, Daddy
    Reesie crumpled the tissue paper in her excitement. He was coming!
    Keys jangled in the kitchen door. Reesie had forgotten that her mother was working an early shift this week. The door