"It's almost midnight," Brian said, "and I'm sure Kindra is beat, too. Kelsey, take her upstairs and show her around. And lend her some clothes until Mom can take her shopping. You look the same size."
Kelsey's eyes did a quick scan of my body. "Looks like," she said without enthusiasm. "Okay. Come on."
I followed her up a flight of stairs to a central hall with rooms on both sides.
"The bathroom is at the end," Kelsey said. She pointed to the left. "That's Sandra and Cindy's room. In case no one said, Sandra's eleven and Cindy's ten." She entered a room on the right. "And this is our room."
There was a double bed along one wall and a twin-size rollaway bed along the opposite wall. A desk in front of the window held a laptop computer. Several boxes were stacked in a corner.
"We're just moving in," Kelsey said. "In fact, I was helping unpack stuff in the living room when we saw you on the television news. Well, not you, exactly. The arrest. Aunt Hilda yelled, 'It's Bruce,' and I saw a man who looked just like Dad on the screen." She bit her lip and changed the subject. "Anyway, I didn't know how much stuff you'd have, so I waited until you got here to finish putting away my things."
"All I have is what I'm wearing, so I won't take up much space." I felt awkward, an intruder. Obviously, Kelsey had planned to have the room to herself. Now she was going to have to share it. "I'd like to take a bath."
"Sure, I'll get you something to wear." Kelsey dug through one of the boxes and came up with three items. "Here's a robe and pajamas."
"Thanks." I took the garments. "Well, I'll just go shower then.
"Fine, go ahead."
"Okay." I crossed the hall to the bathroom. Once the door was closed behind me, I pressed my back against it, glad to finally have a few minutes alone. After a moment, I stood and looked at the pajama top that was short with thin straps and had an ice cream cone and "Sweet Dreams" printed on the front. The matching bottoms were more panty than pajama. Dad would not be pleased, but they were what Kelsey had given me, so I could hardly complain. Kelsey was being nice to me by sharing her room and clothes. I remembered the saying Mom had told me she'd heard from all her foster care families: "Beggars can't be choosers."
As I adjusted the water temperature and stepped into the shower, I thought about how this house, so much bigger than the cabin I was used to, wasn't so large after all, with sisters sharing rooms. If I could find Michael, would my new family make space for him?
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