Page 65 - My FlipBook

T R A I L O F C R U M B S

on his door, calling him out. He followed her to the kitchen,
raised his head and took a step back.
“This is all the food we have,” she said, “not counting
what’s in the fridge. Which isn’t much.” She swept her arm
across the cans of food, boxes of cereal and Jell-O packets
spread over the countertop.
Panic on his face. Their food supply was finite; she felt
it too. One day soon they would eat that last package of lime

Jell-O, and then what?
“Soooo” —she drew out the word—“we need to talk about
what’s next.”
Ash nodded.
“How much money do we have now?”
“Seventy dollars,” he said, “including your twenty.”
“Okay,” she said. “That’s not great.”

“What about calling Aunt Lori?”
“In Arizona?”
“Sure. She’d help.”
For a second, Greta felt the weight of their burden shift—
less crushing. Then: “Dad had her number on his phone. Do
you know it?”
Ash shook his head. Neither of them spoke for a minute.
“We can both apply for jobs,” he said.
“We don’t have much time. February’s rent is due in a

week.”
Ash’s face looked grimmer, if that was possible.
“We could tell someone, ask for help. Like a teacher or
someone at school,” Greta said.

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