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gestured toward the small camping table. I quickly turned it on its side and folded the legs, then pushed it into the tent to help hold it down.
    There would be no room for us once we loaded everything inside. I don’t think my dad was too concerned.
    A crack of thunder made me jump. The wind wasn’t letting up. My eyes stung, and my lungs wheezed with each breath. My dad was hunched over, gathering pots and pans into his sweater.
    I pulled extra rope through the holes of the two tarps. On the last hole, the wind whipped the tarp, and the rope tore from my hands, burning my flesh. I grimaced with pain but grabbed the swinging rope and wrapped it around the nearest tree. I tied three knots, hoping they would hold.
    Snap! Crack!
    An alder branch split and careened down on my dad’s head. He fell sideways. His face scrunched up with pain as he hit the ground.
    â€œDad!” I yelled, running to his side. “Are you okay?”
    â€œI may have broken my arm.” He looked pale.
    â€œLet’s get out of here, Dad. I don’t care if we lose everything. All that matters is that you’re all right.” He stumbled as I helped him up.
    â€œI’m fine. I just need some food. Grab our winter coats, will you?”
    I put my dad’s jacket over his shoulders and guided him toward the street. It was going to be a long walk to the hospital. Then I remembered the clinic down by the freeway.
    I took one last look at our site. Most of our stuff was in the tent. I’d closed the flap on my way out. I could only hope that it would be there tomorrow.
    Then I remembered something I couldn’t afford to leave behind.
    â€œDad, stand here for a minute, okay?” I ran back to the tent. I rummaged through our stuff. The wind rumbled through the thin walls and seemed to want to lift me off the ground.
    I found what I was looking for. I put it under my hoodie, tied the tent flap down again and ran back to take my dad’s good arm.
    Bending my head down, we moved into the headwind. When we reached the coffee shop, my dad tugged on my sleeve.
    â€œWe’re here, son. This is as far as I can go…I need to sit down.”
    â€œBut, Dad,” I protested. “Shouldn’t we go to the clinic? Get you some help?”
    He sighed. “I let our health-care payments lapse. They’d want to know our address. I’d have to tell them our situation, fill in forms. I honestly don’t have the energy for that right now.” He pulled away from my grasp. “Just let me rest. I’m tired.”
    â€œBut…”
    He staggered toward the door.
    â€œDad!” I called after him.
    Ignoring me, he opened the door and entered the coffee shop.

Chapter Eleven
    Warm air and the aroma of fresh coffee and chicken soup greeted me as I entered. My dad was already seated at a table in the back. This was the best spot, because it was out of the staff’s range of vision. There was a video camera hoisted above us, but I was pretty sure nobody watched it. I didn’t want anyone kicking us out tonight. We had nowhere to go.
    â€œOkay, Dad. We’ll stay here. But you need some food.” I rummaged through my backpack.
    â€œDo you have any money?” he asked.
    I hesitated. I was embarrassed to tell my dad I’d spent the last of our money on a girl. I shook my head.
    â€œWell, I don’t have any. I was so busy trying to find a new spot to pitch our tent that I didn’t have time to hunt for bottles.”
    He looked so hungry. Pain flashed across his face as he leaned on his injured arm.
    I lied. “I just remembered, Dad. I left the cash at the site.” Looking at the floor, I said, “I’ll go back and get it.”
    â€œI’m not that hungry, Edgar. Stay inside. Stay warm.”
    I ignored him and started toward the door. “Wait here,” I said over my shoulder. “I’ll be right back.”
    I left my dad slumped at the table.