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only, please.”
    Hannah looked at Lillian, alarmed that she’d already done something wrong, and switched back to Russian. “Of course.”
    â€œShe gets so much English in school,” Lillian explained. “I’m afraid she’ll lose her native tongue. We speak only Russian at home.”
    Only Russian? She hadn’t come to America to speak only Russian, and clearly the girl preferred English.
    â€œSergey!” Lillian called.
    Sergey came into the entranceway and took a pair of black dress shoes from the closet. “Ready?” he asked his wife.
    Lillian rolled her eyes in frustration. “We can’t go.”
    â€œWhy not?”
    She gestured at the little boy, who was still burying his head in her neck. “We can’t leave Michael with her yet. He’s scared of her. You know how he is.”
    Hannah felt terrible that she’d already scared the boy. She’d never been the girl with swarms of children around her. The one time she babysat for her cousin’s baby, it was a disaster. The baby cried for three hours straight.
    â€œCome on, Lily.” He gave her a look of exasperation. “I’m starving.”
    â€œThere will be plenty of time for us to go out once he’s used to her. Why don’t we take him and pick up food? Michael can fall asleep in the car and the girl can take a shower.”
    Hannah pressed her arms harder against her sides and wished she’d taken a moment to run into the bathroom when she first arrived at the house. Lillian probably thought she always smelled this bad.
    â€œI’m staying,” Maggie said, planting her hands on her hips.
    â€œFine. You can show her around,” Lillian said, then turned to Hannah. “Don’t give her any candy. It’s too late and it will go to her brain.”
    â€œMo-om.”
    â€œRussian, Maggie,” she said.
    Sergey picked up Michael and walked out the door with him. Lillian shook her finger at Hannah and Maggie. “Be good,” she said, then closed the door.
    Maggie looked up at Hannah and grinned.

Chapter Five
    â€œY ou want to see my room?” Maggie spoke English with a perfect American accent. “My mom just had it redecorated.”
    Hannah nodded, even though she had no idea what Maggie was talking about.
    â€œCome on.” Maggie grabbed her hand and tugged her up the spiral oak staircase.
    â€œYour mother said we have to speak Russian,” Hannah reminded her in Russian, though she was secretly glad Maggie seemed willing to break the rules.
    â€œShe said
you
can’t speak English, remember?” Maggie said in English, glancing back, her hazel eyes sparkling wickedly. “She didn’t say
I
couldn’t.”
    â€œTrue.” Hannah decided to stick to Russian for now, at least until the family was used to her.
    At the top of the stairs, Maggie pulled her down a hall with a long, expensive-looking Oriental rug, threw open the door to her bedroom, and flung her arms out. “Ta-da!”
    She had a real pink princess room, the kind of room girls in Moldova only saw in American movies. In the center of the room there was a pink canopy bed with sheer pink curtains around the outside, and cozy white pillows and a white duvet inside. And one entire wall was filled with small, pink wooden cubes, each holding a separate doll—there had to be at least fifty of them. It was the biggest doll collection Hannah had ever seen.
    â€œWow,” Hannah said, in English, entranced. She walked across the room and reached for a particularly old doll, maybe even an antique. The doll had pink cheeks and thick blonde hair, curled under and stitched in at the scalp, and a frilly yellow dress that looked handmade.
    â€œDon’t touch that!” Maggie screeched in Russian.
    Hannah pulled away her hand fast, as if the doll had burned her. “Why?”
    Maggie continued in Russian, “You can’t move