Finding Noel Read Online Free PDF

caseworker said. Most kids over four never get adopted.” The caseworker stood back up and it seemed that she was even taller now. “It’s time to say goodbye.”
    Her father knelt down next to her. “You okay, sport?”
    She tried to act brave but her stomach hurt. “What about Sissy?”
    â€œShe’s not going with you.”
    â€œWho will take care of her?”
    â€œShe’ll be okay.”
    Tears welled up in her eyes. “She needs me.”
    â€œShe’ll be okay.”
    â€œBut I don’t want to go.”
    â€œI know.” There was futility in his eyes and Macy knew it would happen. It always happened the way the grown-ups said it would. “I have something for you. You fell asleep before I could give it to you last night.” He handed her a box containing a bright red glass Christmas ornament. Written in glitter were the words NOEL. DECEMBER 25. She looked at it, then wiped her face with her mittens.
    â€œIt’s from Mom,” he said.
    â€œThank you.” She took the box in her hands.
    He exhaled loudly, then stood. There was a quick glance between her father and the yellow-haired woman. The woman said to Macy. “C’mon.”
    Macy looked at her father and the caseworker with hope, but neither would look at her. So she picked up the black plastic garbage bag filled with her clothes and followed the woman, who was already walking to her car. The car was pieced together with body panels from at least three different automobiles, all of different colors: dull metallic blue, brown and lime green. Macy opened the back door, threw her bag on the seat opposite her, then climbed into the car and fastenedher seat belt. The seats were ripped in places and the foam rubber protruded, enmeshed between springs. The car reeked of cigarette smoke in spite of the tree-shaped air freshener that hung from the rearview mirror.
    The woman started the car, then reached down and turned on the radio to a country station. Macy glanced back once more at her father. The caseworker was talking to him and he looked at the ground. Then, as the car started to move, he looked into her eyes once, then looked away. And then he was gone. Macy closed her eyes tightly and tried not to cry out loud.

    Ten minutes into the drive the woman turned down the radio.
    â€œYou had lunch?”
    â€œYes, ma’am,” she lied. She hadn’t eaten since breakfast. Eating was one area of her life where she felt control.
    â€œYou’re skinny as a paper clip.”
    â€œYes, ma’am.”
    â€œCase you’re wondering, you have a sister and two brothers.”
    Macy just stared out the window in silence. Her mind reeled in ways she couldn’t explain. She had developed mechanisms to cope with her fear, and she had retreated into herself, or perhaps out of herself, as she felt as if she were outside her body, watching this little girl thrown into a frightening new world. The woman just sucked on her cigarette. She had expended all the effort she would in conversation.
    The ride seemed interminable.
    Twenty-five minutes later the car passed a supermarket and turned down a narrow dead-end road. The second house from the end was a small, prefabricated home with green aluminum siding and a gray shingle roof. The front porch was elevated and it had an aluminum-awning covering. The picture window to the side of the porch had been broken and there was cardboard duct-taped to it on the inside. The yard was filled with weeds, and to the side of the house were cars in various stages of cannibalization. As they pulled in to the driveway, the woman said, “This is your new home.”
    â€œIt’s very nice,” Macy said. She had learned to always say this because it made the big people happy. But if it affected this woman at all, she couldn’t tell.
    The woman shut off the car and opened the door. She threw what was left of her cigarette on the ground then