myself, with lots of wavy strawberry curls, twinkling brown eyes, and a self-deprecating sense of humor. She is the type of woman who is by nature a leader and a force of nature; if she were to trip and fall flat on her face you’d wonder why you hadn’t done it first. Emme’s Lost family consists of only herself, her mother and her little brother, Joe. They live in the apartment next door. They have been here a while, longer than my group, and they are beginning to wonder if they are stuck in time. Five years, Emme says. That’s a long time for the Lost.
“It’s Rose, my sister, Rose. I’m positive of it,” I answer, flopping down on the floor by the couch since she hasn’t made room for me and is sprawled from end to end.
“The missing one?” she cocks a pretty eyebrow that has been penciled in red. “Blimey, Sonnet, are you sure? How old is the picture?”
“A week or so and it was taken here,” I can feel the excitement bubbling up again “I met the man who took the picture, and I saw her myself at work last night. Now I just have to find her again.”
“She doesn’t know you then, is that it? Did you tell her who she is? Was?”
“She ran off before I could talk to her. The only thing I can think of is that she is Lost too, but either she moves on less frequently than her family does, or maybe this is her first travel.”
“Well, she does look a little confused,” Emme agrees, staring at the photos once more. “She’s very beautiful.”
“I have to find her and bring her home before one of us travels on again, Emme. If you had just arrived here, where would you hide?”
“Mum and Joe and I stayed at the homeless shelter for a bit when we got here. Or since it’s still summer, she might be sleeping in one of the parks. Otherwise, I don’t know, Sonnet. Your guess is as good as mine. The Lost know how to blend in, you know that. Where’d you guys stay when you got here?”
I think back to two years ago when we first woke up here. We were all laid out on the riverbank at the edge of town, like beached fish. Prue had woken first and already had a fire going and was looking as nonplussed as usual to have woken up in an entirely different spot than where she had laid down to sleep. It was hardly her first travel, of course, and nothing much affects Prue. If Israel is my rock, Prue is my mountain. I had gone over to her, my heart in my mouth the way it always was when we traveled, and she had wrapped her big arms around me and rubbed some warmth into them and the goose bumps right off. Amelia and Will had gotten up soon after and Will spent the next several hours calming down his hysterical wife. Dad looked a bit sadder than normal, which is sorrowful to the point of death. Israel went off to find food and to find out what he could about where, and more importantly, when, we were. Matthias and Harry traded stories and attempted to fish with tree branches. Israel came back with stolen clothes and reports of a modern American town. I traded glum for forced excitement and couldn’t wait to see the cars he talked of. One drove by on the road above the riverbank and it was the only thing that made Meli stop bawling (after screaming first, of course). We stayed at that riverbank for a few nights, scoping out and learning as much as we could. We spent the next several days in an abandoned farmhouse a few miles away, an old trick of the trade of the Lost. Every town has a house or two that is empty and forgotten.
“She seems like a loner,” I say doubtfully, thinking of the crowded homeless shelter and having a hard time imagining Rose there. “Parks aren’t a bad idea though…there’s the big one that edges up to the campground; no one would notice an extra camper.” I am lost in thought and my thoughts lead me back to my nightmare from last night. My scratches start to ache again, dull and throbbing, starting in my palm and traveling up my arm. I am so focused inward I don’t see Joe pop up from behind the