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  “How did you get up there?” Allie brushed the hay off her neck. It itched like mad—worse than when Mom cut her hair and left the scratchy bits behind.

  “The ladder!” Luke pointed to a flimsy ladder that hung down from another hole in the ceiling. It was close—really close—to the big cow’s pen.

  “Um...is that cow dangerous?” Allie asked.

  “It’s not a cow, you moron, it’s Blackie, our bull,” Jonathan said. Allie stared up at him—really looked at him for the first time. He was kind of small, and pale and flabby, and had a stupid grin that she wanted to smack right off his face. Allie made it a rule to never get attached to other foster kids. It made leaving them easier. She was having no trouble following the rule this time.

  “Allie, please come up,” Madeleine said, smiling sweetly.

  “I’m coming.” Allie slowly climbed the rickety ladder. “What’s the big deal, anyw...”

  Oh. Allie froze, speechless, her head sticking up through the hole in the ceiling. It was an enormous room. A room packed with hundreds—maybe thousands—of big hay bales. A room filled with sunbeams and floating dust specks.

  More importantly, it was a room filled with cats. Dozens of them, running and wrestling and playing all over the hay bales.

  “Barn cats are kind of wild, but they’ll warm up to you if you feed them,” Jonathan said. He pointed to the twins. Luke was holding out the bottom edge of his shirt to make a pouch, and Madeleine was filling it with cat food from a big bin.

  “We’re going to feed them and that will make them love us forever,” said Madeleine, who really did think life was that simple. “Jonathan says this is a haymow. Maybe Mommy can live here?”

  “You don’t have to frown all the time,” Jonathan said, staring at Allie. “It’s not that bad here.”

  “Oh, what do you know?” Allie climbed up the last few rungs of the ladder, brushed the hay off her shoulder and then stomped toward the twins.

  “Hey, watch out for...”

  The hole. He’d been trying to warn Allie about the hole. Of course, he didn’t get the words out in time. Which was why Allie ended up falling—surprisingly fast, too—down through the hole and onto the cow that was actually (and this made it so much worse) a bull.

  “Help me!” Allie screamed, as she slid off the bull’s back and landed in a pile of something warm and squishy. Allie scuttled backward through more squishy stuff, then practically threw herself over the wobbly fence into the barn’s alleyway.

  “Aaaaiiiggghhh!” Allie jumped up and down shaking her arms frantically, trying to get the stuff off. The stuff that was, of course, bull poop. The twins scrambled down the ladder, then skidded to a stop when they saw Allie.

  “Oh, Allie, you need a bath,” Luke said.

  “That thing attacked me!” Allie screamed, as she scraped her legs against the barn door, trying to wipe off the clumps of manure.

  “Allie...” Jonathan said.

  “I could have been killed...I hate this place.”

  “Allie!” The boy was pointing at Blackie. The bull hadn’t moved—he was standing in the same spot he’d been in when Allie first came into the barn. He’d been chewing before, and he was chewing now. That was it. Chewing.

  “Allie, he’s 16 years old and he’s got arthritis. He barely moves. We only keep him as a pet.”

  “I hate this place.” Allie fought back tears as she looked at the stains all over her brand-new clothes. “I hate everything.”

  “You really are quite the witch,” Jonathan said. “Where’s your broom?”

  Allie just glared, focusing on the stupid boy’s stupid freckles.

  Thunk...thunk...thunk...

  Luke. He was sitting in the barn doorway, whacking his forehead against the splintered wooden frame.

  Thunk...thunk...thunk...

  He was hitting the wood hard—really hard. He was in his trance—the one he always slipped into when life got too stressful for a six-year-old boy.

  “Go away,” Allie snapped, as she pushed past Jonathan.

  “Luke, please stop,” she whispered, when she reached her little brother. “Please...I’m sorry...I didn’t mean to get mad.”

  “It’ll be okay, Luke. Allie will protect us.” Madeleine squirmed in close to her brother.

  “Luke, please.” Allie cupped Luke’s bruised head in her hands and pulled him to her chest. “They’ll make us stay here longer if you do this.” It was true. Freaky things like hurting yourself, hoarding things, breaking stuff…social workers liked to blame it all on bad parenting. And they kept kids away from their families for longer and longer—sometimes forever—if they found out about it.

  “Come on, Luke. I really need a bubble bath. Show me where you put those silly tub toys.” Allie carefully lifted her little brother to his feet. Luke smiled faintly. Good. One problem solved.

  JoJo was sitting at the kitchen table talking to another woman when Allie and the twins walked in. Her eyes shot to Luke’s bruised, swollen forehead. “What on earth?”

  “None of your business,” Allie muttered, as she hurried the twins toward the bathroom.

  The strange woman stood up and blocked Allie’s path. “Well, Allie, it’s my business,” she said. “I’m Jennifer Stone.”

  Oh, great. It was her—the new social worker who was going to poke around in Allie’s head and give her dumb advice

  Allie stepped in close. Close enough that the woman would have to smell the manure all over Allie’s clothes.

  “Here’s the deal, Jennifer Stone,” Allie said, in her snottiest voice. “I’m not going to some hick country school. I’m going home for ninth grade, so I’ve only got eight weeks to play your games. You tell me what to do to make you happy, and we’ll get this over with.”

  The worker leaned in even closer (like the smell didn’t bother her one bit) and lowered her voice. “No, here’s the deal, Allianna Marsh,” she said. “Your mom’s an alcoholic, and you know it. If she sobers up, you can go home. If she doesn’t, you’ll be spending ninth grade in a hick country school.”

  Allie blinked, then stepped back. This one wasn’t warm and fuzzy. The game was going to be different this time.

  JoJo put her hand on Luke’s shoulder. “What happened?”

  “Let’s go,” Allie wrapped an arm around each twin and herded them toward the bathroom.

  “The file says Luke self-injures as a way of soothing himself,” the Stone woman said, as she flipped through a pile of papers on the table. “And Allie’s parentified—she’s trying to raise the twins, since her mother isn’t doing the job.”

  “Shut up,” Allie yelled. “You have no business talking about us like we’re not even here.”

  The woman looked at Allie and raised her eyebrows. “And were you planning on telling JoJo? She needs this information so she can help you.”

  “We don’t need help. You had no right taking us away from our home.”

  The woman sighed, then put on a fake I-care-about-you smile. “We’re going to keep you safe until your mother can do the job herself.” Allie absolutely hated that line—and a dozen foster workers had said the same stupid thing over the years.

  Allie pulled Luke and Madeleine closer, and marched them to the bathroom. The Stone woman might not mind the smell, but it was making Allie queasy.

  Allie had just put her hand on the bathroom doorknob when she heard the explosion. A deep, low rumbling sound followed by a massive whooomp that shook all the walls and rattled the windows.

  She froze, waiting to see if the house was going to stay up or come crashing down.

  “NOOOO,” Madeleine shrieked. Her face was white and her eyes flitted around wildly. She broke away from Allie and ran, with Luke close behind, through the kitchen and right out the back door.

  CHAPTER 3

  Allie raced through the kitchen, trying to catch up. Cripes, those two could really run when they were scared.

  “Come back! You’re not in trouble,” she yelled,
as the twins shot out the back door and down into the valley. It was like some weird video game—no matter how fast Allie ran, the twins ran faster, getting smaller and smaller as they disappeared into the fields.

  Allie stopped to catch her breath, panic welling up inside her as she frantically scanned the horizon. They were gone.

  “It’s okay, we’ll find them,” the tall guy said, as he trotted up beside her. “I’m Arthur, by the way. Did you hear that Jonathan and I are 14, too? JoJo’s joking she’s got triplets and twins, now.”

  Allie ignored him and started walking. She hated small talk. She didn’t care who he was and she didn’t care that they were the same age. She needed the twins back.

  “Why’d they flip out?” Jonathan wheezed, when he finally caught up. “It’s just a detonator—they’re blasting rock to build an irrigation pond down the road. It’s the cheapest way to water crops.”

  “They think Mom will blame them. They think...” Allie clamped her mouth shut.

  “Come on,” Arthur said. “Their legs are short. They’ll run out of steam soon enough.”

  They searched for hours. Through the hay fields, the corn fields, the pear orchard. They searched and called and searched and called. No twins.

  When they’d circled back through the valley, Allie glanced up at the sky. Tears spilled down her cheeks as the whole long, stressful day caught up with her, crushing her insides into knots. “Oh, please, we have to find them,” she said. “They’re all I’ve got.”

  “I...don’t think you need to worry,” Jonathan said, pointing up at the barn.

  Arthur glanced up, then burst out laughing.

  “What? What?” Allie asked.

  “Look. A rainbow,” Arthur said.

  Sure enough, there was a tiny, pretty rainbow coming out of a haymow window.

  “I don’t understand...”

  Arthur was laughing so hard he could barely talk. “It’s Luke. He’s peeing out the window!”

  “Oh, for...” Allie stomped up the steep hill to the barn, the boys close behind. It was an awful hill—covered with fallen trees and spiky bushes and holes where you really weren’t expecting them. But at least now she could breathe. Now she knew the twins were safe. She raced past Blackie and straight up the ladder without stopping.

  Luke and Madeleine were cuddled up on a hay bale, ready to fall asleep. They smiled sadly at Allie when she came up the ladder.

  “Look what that JoJo lady left for us,” Luke whispered, pointing. In the middle of the haymow was a big picnic basket. The lid was open, and the last bits of their feast—sandwich wrappers, orange peels and empty juice boxes—were scattered nearby.

  “She’s nice,” Madeleine said, brushing cookie crumbs off her new shirt. “If she sends us somewhere else, do we have to give back these clothes?”

  “No, silly,” Allie said, as she sat down beside the twins. “And you didn’t do anything wrong. Please don’t leave me, again.”

  Allie glanced up just as Jonathan climbed through the hole in the floor. “You guys okay?” he asked.

  Madeleine and Luke snuggled close to Allie, not saying a word. More regression for the social workers to blather on about.

  “We brought you something,” Jonathan said, smiling. Two baby piglets—no bigger than hot dog buns—shot up through the hole, held in the air by two big hands (Arthur’s hands, Allie guessed).

  Madeleine slowly slid off the hay bale, with Luke close behind. They each took a piglet, then giggled as the squirmy little things snuffled and wiggled in their arms.

  “Oh, they’re cute!” Madeleine said. “And look…they’re the same color as Jonathan’s freckles!”

  It was true. Allie had always thought pigs were pink. But these ones were kind of a light brown color. Freckle color.

  “What should we call them?” Luke asked.

  Madeleine frowned. “Your dog names were silly.”

  “I make good dog names,” Luke said, as they scuttled over to the hay bale, carrying their new treasures. “Your names were boring.”

  “Were not!”

  “Were too!”

  So much for regression.

  Allie looked at Jonathan and Arthur. “Thank you for, uh...thank you.”

  “No probs,” Jonathan said. “Say, it’s getting kinda boring around here. Wanna fall through the hole and land on Blackie, again?” Allie glared. Why couldn’t he shut up? He wasn’t funny at all.

  “I’ll tell JoJo everything’s good,” Arthur said. It wasn’t good, of course. She was in a stupid foster home in the middle of stupid nowhere.

  “Everyone okay? Hellooo?”

  Allie peeked out an open window. It was that social worker—Stone. She was heading across the manure-covered yard to her car, and she was wearing a fancy dress and high heels. Allie stifled a smile.

  “Mrs. Stone, I think my...I think the twins are kind of shook up,” Allie called out, putting on her best We’d love your help voice. “Can you come talk to them? We’re in the haymow.”

  Stone hesitated. “I need to get back to the office soon, but, well, sure.” She tossed a pile of papers into her car, then looked up at Allie. “What can I do to help, sweetie?” she asked, putting on her fake smile.

  Allie dug her nails into her palms. She hated fake smiles. And she really hated being called sweetie.

  “Maybe you could climb up here? They’re really unhappy,” Allie said, as Madeleine and Luke snuggled piglets in the hay behind her.

  “I’m, uh, I’m on my way.” Stone moved slowly, walking on her tiptoes so she could keep her pointy heels out of the soggy, wet manure. She’d just reached the second rung of the ladder when JoJo stomped in. JoJo, who was wearing big rubber boots and plowing through the manure like it wasn’t even there.

  “What are you doing?” JoJo frowned at Stone.

  “Allie says the twins need me,” Stone said, trying to look important. JoJo’s eyes narrowed as she looked up at Allie through the hole. “Really?”

  Stone slowly climbed up to the next rung, her dress straining and bunching.

  “For heaven’s sake, come down here,” JoJo said, shaking her head. “You’re being conned by a 14-year-old. What are you, a newbie?”

  Suddenly, Madeleine and Luke exploded with laughter. One of the piglets had rolled over onto its back and was wiggling its fat little legs like an upside-down turtle.

  Stone glared up at Allie, then backed down the ladder and stomped out of the barn, slipping and sliding in the wet manure. She looked like she would have pitched a major hissy fit if there hadn’t been so many witnesses.

  Was that a twinkle in JoJo’s eye? Allie wasn’t sure.

  “Come on, time for bed,” Allie said to the twins. She handed the squirming piglets down to Arthur and then climbed down the ladder, with Luke and Madeleine close behind.

  “Allie, we’re not tired!”

  “Please let us stay up!”

  Kids. What a pain. Allie and the twins followed Arthur down the alleyway toward the sound of the snuffling pigs.

  The pigpen smelled as disgusting as, well, as a pigpen. And the Mamma pig was huge—the size of a motorcycle. Allie watched the little piglets snuggle up against her warm body, the way Luke and Madeleine used to snuggle up against their mom when they were sleepy. The pigpen was a mess—food and poop everywhere. And Mamma pig had clearly never given any of her piglets a bath. Yet she was allowed to keep her babies, while Allie’s mom kept having hers taken away. It wasn’t fair.

  “What’s up?” It was JoJo.

  “Nothing,” Allie muttered. “Come on, guys. Bedtime.” Allie shooed Madeleine and Luke back to the house.

  JoJo and Arthur followed, checking pens and shutting off barn lights as they left.

  “Allie,” JoJo said, gently, “it’s not your job to put six-year-olds to bed. You’re a kid yourself.”

  “Go ahead. Say I’m parentified. You’re just like the rest of them,” Allie snapped.

  “Yes, you’re parentified,” JoJo sa
id. “You’re raising your brother and sister because no one else is, anymore. But you can stop, now. You can act like a kid.”

  Act like a kid...how was she supposed to do that? Allie felt an ache in her chest, but she shoved it down deep inside and let the anger swell up and smother it.

  “It’s none of your business” Allie sped up to get away from JoJo and Arthur, threw open the back door and stomped into the kitchen. Luke and Madeleine were already inside. They were staring, mesmerized, out the big kitchen window.

  “Allie,” Luke whispered. “Look.”

  Allie glanced out the window. Everything looked the same. Tripod, the three-legged dog, was asleep on his blanket. Chickens, ducks and cats were wandering all over the yard. The only difference was freckle boy—Jonathan. He was lying in the hammock with his eyes closed. Probably just pretending he was asleep. Cripes, he was lazy.

  “Watch,” Luke whispered. Something moved. Something that looked like a huge chicken. It was creeping—slowly, silently—toward Jonathan.

  “Well, here we go again,” JoJo said, smiling. She peered over the twins’ heads as she pulled off her rubber boots. “That’s Maximus. For some reason, he doesn’t like Jonathan. He thinks they have to fight for the girls, or something.”

  Maximus moved slowly and silently toward his prey, his head bobbing with every step. When Maximus reached the side of the hammock, he puffed up his feathers to make himself look bigger and more impressive. It wasn’t working. Jonathan must have outweighed Maximus by 100 pounds. Plus he was asleep. And how much damage could a bird do, anyway?

  BWWWAAAAAAAK!

  Feathers flew in every direction as Maximus exploded into the air and landed on Jonathan’s chest. He flapped his wings hard and clawed with his nasty feet, sending clouds of dust and dander (and possibly skin) flying through the air.

  Jonathan leapt out of the hammock with a shriek and fell flat on his face. Which, apparently, really ticked Maximus off, because the bird jumped on Jonathan’s back and clawed frantically, like a dog digging for a bone.

  Jonathan screamed, jumped up and raced for the house, Maximus attacking his heels the whole way.

  Luke giggled. “He screams like a girl.”