The Lost & Found by Katrina Leno Read Free Book Online Page A

hotter outside the car. I started sweating instantly. You would think spending my entire life in Los Angeles would mean I was a little more accustomed to the heat. Nope. I dreamed of snow. I’d never even seen it. I think I would like to ski.
    I opened the door to the diner. Benson, the owner’s son, was at the host’s stand. He was short and stocky; he played football on the school’s team. I didn’t know anything about football, but I think he was good? People said he was good. He was pretty popular, but one of those popular kids who was also nice. A rare combination.
    â€œHey, Louis,” he said when I opened the door. He looked behind me and asked, “No Willa today?”
    â€œShe’s in the car,” I answered.
    â€œOh,” he said. And maybe his face fell a fraction of an inch, or maybe I imagined it. I thought he probably had a crush on her, but I knew lots of guys who’d liked my sister only to have their hopes dashed when they found out she only had crushes on sleeping and tater tots. And plus—if she liked Benson, I was pretty sure she would have told me.
    â€œCan I put in a takeout order?”
    â€œSure thing. Usual?”
    â€œUsual would be great.”
    â€œI’ll throw in some extra tater tots. I know she likes them.”
    Benson scribbled our order on his pad and went to give it to the kitchen.
    I pulled out my phone and read a message from Nib. It made me smile—she had received my fake flowers. I typed her back while I waited for Benson. We usually wrote back and forth a few times a day, just checking in, small stuff. But because of what had happened to her mother, I felt even more of a need to make sure she was okay.
    It’s hot in Los Angeles today. I think this guy in my school might have a crush on Willa, which is very OK with me. He gives us free tater tots! Not just like randomly—he works in a diner. Anyway, hi. Is it hot there? Are you OK? Take an allergy pill for the flowers.
    I put my phone back in my pocket as Benson returned with two coffees to go.
    â€œThanks,” I said, taking them.
    â€œNo problem. So where are you headed? The store?”
    Willa and I worked part time at my parents’ fabric store. It was about as thrilling as it sounded. Willa cut fabric all day, and I was on restock. It was miserable, but our parents were entrepreneurs and had this great need to instill the same drive in Willa and me. We would inherit the shop one day, and my mother had already made it clear shewould come back as a ghost and haunt us until the day we died if we ever sold it. I’ve heard the “we started that store from the ground up” speech too many times to count.
    â€œWe’ll be there later on. Willa’s got a doctor’s appointment.”
    â€œEverything okay?”
    â€œNew legs,” I said.
    Maybe it was weird how nonchalantly everyone talked about Willa’s accident, but despite it being downtown Los Angeles, there was actually a small-town, community feel in our neighborhood. Everyone knew us, everyone knew Willa, and everyone knew my mother was passionate about two things: tulle and normalizing her daughter’s lack of legs. Willa was never bullied or treated differently. It maybe helped she had the attitude of a long-haul trucker. Nobody wanted to fuck with her.
    â€œThat’s great! I know her current ones were getting a little old.”
    â€œSure. I don’t know. I guess these will be the last ones for a while. The doctor said she’s done growing.”
    Willa would have been tall, had it not been for the accident and subsequent transfemoral amputation. Her torso was long and narrow, and you could just tell by looking at her that she was supposed to be a giant. I was tall, anyway, and we were twins.
    â€œThere have been huge strides in prostheses over the last few years,” Benson said thoughtfully.
    â€œI guess. I don’t really pay