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"Eugenia," he said softly, stepping toward me.

"Get her inside," my grandmother commanded through her teeth. "Now!" She turned away and smiled up at her guests. "It's all right, everyone . . . just a misunderstanding. Nothing to alarm anyone."

"Please, Eugenia," my father said, reaching out to take my hand. "Let's go inside," he pleaded.

"No!" I backed farther away. "I'm not going inside. I hate it; l hate it!" I screamed and turned and ran down the driveway.

"Honestly, Daddy, you're always treating Dawn with kid gloves," I heard Clara Sue say. "She's a big girl. She's made her bed! Now let her lie in it!"

Her words put more force into my stride. Clara was such a liar. As I ran, the tears streamed down and blew off my cheeks. I felt as though my chest would explode, but I didn't stop running. I reached the street and turned right, running down the sidewalk, half the time with my eyes closed, sobbing.

I ran and ran until the pain in my side became a sharp knife cutting deeper and deeper, forcing me to slow down to a trot and then a walk, my hand on my ribs, my head down, gasping for breath. I had no idea where I was headed or where I was. The street had turned to the left, bringing me closer to the ocean, and the pounding surf seemed right beside me. Finally I stopped by some large rocks and leaned against them to rest and catch my breath.

I gazed out at the moonlit sea. The sky was dark, deep, even cold, and the moon looked sickly yellow. Occasionally the spray from the surf reached me and sprinkled my face.

Poor Jimmy, I thought, spirited off into the night like some common criminal. Would they force him to return to that mean farmer? What had we done to deserve this? I bit down on my lower lip to prevent myself from sobbing any more. My throat and chest ached so much from crying.

Suddenly I heard someone calling. It was Sissy wandering through the streets looking for me.

"Your daddy sent me after you," she said.

"He's not my daddy," I spat out hatefully. "He's my father, and I'm not going back. I'm not."

"Well, what'cha going to do?" she asked, looking around. "You can't stay out here all night. You gotta come back."

"They dragged Jimmy away like some hunted animal. You should have seen."

"I did see. I seen it all from the side of the porch. Who was he?"

"He was my . . . the boy I thought was my brother. He had run off from a cruel foster parent."

"Oh."

"And there was nothing I could do to help him," I wailed helplessly, standing back and wiping my cheeks, "Nothing." I sighed deeply and lowered my head. How frustrated and defeated I felt. Sissy was right: I had to return to the hotel. Where else would I go?

"I hate Clara Sue," I said through my clenched teeth. "She told my grandmother Jimmy was hiding out here and got her to call the police. She's a mean, spiteful . . . she's the one who stole Mrs. Clairmont's necklace just so I'd be blamed. Afterward, I saw her sneak into my room and put it in my bed."

"But I thought Mrs. Clairmont found it."

"I snuck into her room and put it back, but Clara Sue did it," I repeated. "I know no one will believe me, but she did."

"I believe you. That's one spoiled child for sure," Sissy agreed. "But she will get hers someday. That kind always does, because they hate themselves too much. Come on, honey," Sissy said, putting her arm around my shoulders, "I'll walk you back. You’re shivering something terrible."

"I'm just upset, not cold."

"Still, you're shivering," Sissy said, rubbing my arm. We started back to the hotel. "Jimmy's a handsome boy."

"He is handsome, isn't he? And he's very nice. People don't see that at first because he seems so standoffish. That's because he's really shy."

"Ain't nothing wrong with being a little shy. It's the other type I don't like much."

"Like Clara Sue?"

"Like Clara Sue," she agreed, and we both laughed. It felt good to laugh, like finally letting out a breath you had to hold for the longest time. And then an idea came to me.

"Do you know the woman who was my nurse when I was first born—Mrs. Dalton?"

"Uh-huh."