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head and stared at my black satin lap, fiercely wiping my eye.
    “Allie, I said I was sorry.” Sam kicked his foot on the ground, sending up a small pile of dust.
    I looked up and gave him a withering look. “If you hadn’t been at my house, none of this would have happened.”
    Sam looked taken aback. “What?”
    Some of the ladies at the funeral frowned at me. I lowered my voice. “If I’d been in there with Mama, I could have saved her.”
    “Allie,” Sam whispered, hurt in his eyes.
    I refused to meet his gaze. Instead I hugged myself as tightly as my too-small black dress would let me and tried to fight the tears in my eyes.
    “Well.” Sam laid the flowers at my feet. “I’m still sorry.” He looked up at me with the saddest blue eyes — I really was tempted to believe him for a second. Just a second.
    I focused on my lap once again, and Sam shuffled off with his mother, glancing back over his shoulder at me. I avoided his eye.
    “Are you Alcyone?” A stuffy old lady looked down her nose at me. I nodded and wiped my nose on my sleeve. “Oh, for goodness sake, child, use a handkerchief.” The lady tutted and handed me an intricately embroidered hanky. I blew my nose and handed it back to her. “Oh.” The woman grimaced and placed it back in her quilted purse. “I am Mrs. Pamela Dewsbury, from the adoption agency.”
    “Adoption?” I squeaked.
    “Yes.” Mrs. Dewsbury wrinkled her nose again and brushed a spot of dirt off the bench before she sat down beside me. “You see, Alcyone, you have no family. And so we have matched you with a compatible adult who can take care of you. I am to take you back to your home and help you pack your things so we can go straight there on the six o’clock train.”
    My mouth hung slightly open. Mrs. Dewsbury reached over and shut it with one finger. “That is very unsightly.”
    Over the car ride home, Mrs. Dewsbury explained my current situation in cold detail.
    “I’m sorry to have to do this to you, but most of your belongings must be sold in order to pay for your mother’s funeralarrangements. You may have noticed your mother didn’t have much money.” She glanced at me and tightened her lip. “You shall only bring one suitcase full of things of little worth to your new home.”
    “What about my cat?” My heart was racing. What would I do without Daphne?
    Mrs. Dewsbury shook her head. “You may not bring the cat.”
    I scooted to the edge of the car and looked out the window, running my finger down the glass. “Where am I going?”
    Mrs. Dewsbury glanced at me sideways. “Maine.”
    Maine?
I crouched farther into my corner.
Oh, Mama
.

Chapter 4
    After great pain, a formal feeling comes —
    The Nerves sit ceremonious, like Tombs …
    As Freezing persons, recollect the Snow —
    First — Chill — then Stupor — then the letting go —
    — Emily Dickinson
    I looked around my bedroom and fought back tears.
All my things. All my precious things
. The dolls Mama had given me and the little dresses we’d sewn together. The beautiful curtains we’d picked out and the sheets we’d camped out in.
    I choked on a sob as I folded the last of my few articles of clothing and placed them in my bag. There was so little room left.
    Think, Allie. What will you need?
    I reached over and pulled down my sketchbook and chalks from my nightstand. Then I walked over to the left wall of my room and stared at all the drawings I’d placed there. Ones of me, ones of Daphne, ones of Mama.
    Ones of Mama
. I reached up and peeled my favorite one off the wall, holding it to my chest and stroking my finger over Mama’s face. She was dressed in her favorite feedbag dress, the one with checked tulips, standing in the garden by my roses. In her hand she cupped a butterfly, but it looked like it was going to fly away any second. The look on her face was one of anticipation and excitement. The old Mama. Before the sickness.
    I put the picture in my bag along with a photograph