Sara Lost and Found by Virginia Castleman

MacMillan doesn’t even know she adopted a robber.
    â€œOh no! My jacket! I forgot my jacket! We have to go back.” I look at Mrs. Craig, hoping she’ll turn the car around.
    â€œThere’s no time, Sara. We can get you another one.”
    I collapse against the seat and close my eyes. How could so much of me get left behind? First Mama, then Daddy, then Mama’s letter and her photo, then Cowwy, then my half-heart necklace, and now my jacket.
    All of them—gone.
    â€œI know that tune!” Mrs. Craig says, and she starts singing, “Raindrops keep falling on my head. . . .”
    I close the box, and it stops playing. She doesn’t stop singing, though. It’s like someone wound her up.

CHAPTER 14
    I DON’T KNOW WHO’S HAPPIER, the Silvermans seeing us or us seeing them, but the smiles and hugs are big and real. For a while I can forget all the things that got left behind.
    â€œI don’t want to go and spoil everyone’s good time,” Mrs. Craig announces, “but it’s important you both understand that this move is only—”
    â€œTemporary!” I shout. Maybe I should get a T-shirt with the word stamped in huge letters across it.
    Mrs. Craig cups her hand under my chin and tilts my head up. “I have some news,” she says. “Let’s sit under the tree and talk a few minutes.”
    Mrs. Craig, taking time to sit and talk? Something is wrong. Something is very, very wrong.
    A silent signal seems to pass between Mrs. Craig and the Silvermans. One minute they’re standing there, the next they’re grabbing our things and heading for the house.
    As we watch the Silvermans shuffle across the yard, Anna clutches my hand. When they are out of sight, Mrs. Craig lets out a long sigh. That right there says it all. The news is bad.
    â€œIt’s about your father,” she says, and my stomach knots up. “He’s free now, but the judge has put a restraining order on him.”
    â€œA restraining order? What do you mean, a restraining order?” I demand. Anna tightens her grip.
    â€œHe is not to see you girls until he gets some help for his drinking problem, his temper, and a few other things he has to deal with. The judge will review his case after he completes rehabilitation and parenting classes. But I have to be honest with both of you. Based on his record, it’s not looking good. I’m so sorry,” she adds, sounding like she means it.
    I can hear Anna sniffing, but I don’t look at her. She lets go of my hand and starts pounding Abby against the grass. Mrs. Craig catches her arms and gently but firmly pulls Anna into a hug. Anna starts squirming, but Mrs. Craig doesn’t let go. She just keeps rocking and talking, rocking and talking, soothing the hurt.
    I can’t look. Sometimes bad news has a way of wrapping around me so tight, I can hardly breathe. I feel something crawling on my leg and look down. A caterpillar is inching up my shin toward my knee. I watch it through a blur, knowing that someday soon it will change into a butterfly. Things can change for the better. That’s what the caterpillar is trying to tell me. Things can change for the better. The question is, Can Daddy? The judge is saying no. But maybe the judge is wrong. Maybe Daddy can be like the caterpillar and change.
    When Anna has no more fight left in her, Mrs. Craig tells us more. “What this means is that the judge will now consider allowing a family to adopt you. That way, you won’t have to keep moving from one family to another.” She’s looking at me like she’s waiting for an answer. I just sit, watching the caterpillar crawl from my knee to the hand that’s resting on my leg.
    â€œI know not being with your dad is hard to imagine right now, but doesn’t a permanent home with permanent parents sound like something you’ve always wanted?”
    It’s a hard question to