“And say what?” I whispered. “That her dad’s broke and she’s tired? That’s not exactly… I don’t know how to tackle this, Dan. Let’s just try our best.”
“Should we call someone?”
He sighed. “She looks exhausted.”
I nodded. “I’ll talk to her. Gently this time, I promise.”
***
Over the weekend, I tried to find out more information.
Sam shrugged. “She doesn’t talk about home, Mom. She just says that her dad’s working a lot. And sometimes the power gets cut for a few days at a time. She pretends it’s fine, but she’s always hungry… and tired.”
That Monday, Lizie arrived looking even paler. As she pulled out her homework, her backpack tumbled from the chair and burst open. Papers fluttered across the floor — crumpled bills, an envelope of coins, and a shutoff notice with “FINAL WARNING” stamped in red.
I tried to find out more information.
A battered notebook splayed open, pages scrawled with lists.
I knelt to help. “EVICTION” glared at me in block letters. Beneath it, in neat handwriting: “What we take first if we get evicted.”
“Lizie…” I could barely get the words out. “What is this?”
She froze, lips pressed tight, her fingers twisting the hem of her hoodie.
Sam gasped behind me. “Lizie, you didn’t say it was this bad!”
Dan walked in, eyebrows furrowed. “What’s going on?” He glanced at the papers, then at me.
“What is this?”
I held up the envelope. “Lizie, sweetheart, are you… are you and your dad being put out of your home?”
She stared at the floor, hugging her backpack. “My dad said not to tell anybody,” she said. “He said it’s nobody’s business.”
“Sweetheart, that’s not true,” I said softly, moving closer to her. “We care. But we can’t help you if you don’t tell us what’s going on.”
She shook her head, tears welling. “He says if people know, they’ll look at us different. Like we’re begging.”
Dan crouched beside us. “Is there anywhere else you can stay, hon? An aunt or a friend?”
She shook her head harder. “We tried my aunt… but she has four kids in a tiny house. There just wasn’t any room.”
“He says if people know, they’ll look at us different.”
Sam squeezed her hand. “You don’t have to hide this. We’ll figure something out together.”
I nodded. “You’re not alone, Lizie. We’re in this now.”
She hesitated, glancing at her phone — a thin crack ran along the screen. “Should I… should I call my dad?” she asked. “But he’ll be mad I told.”
“Let me talk to him,” I said gently. “We just want to help, that’s all.”
A tense silence followed as she dialed. We waited. I made coffee, Dan put away dishes. My stomach continued to churn.
“We just want to help, that’s all.”
