Amal has disappeared again. Her phone isn’t answering, and I’m exhausted from worrying and crying. She thinks she’s all grown up, but I’m still responsible for her for another year. And the longer this goes on, the harder it gets to coexist with my little sister.
Through friends and acquaintances, I managed to track down a possible location where she might be. A vacation community called “Green Gardens-2.” Just the perfect place to trek through a snowstorm looking for a teenager.
I understand why Amal didn’t tell me. I would’ve been dead set against it. I think she’s too young to be this independent.
But what I don’t get is why she treats me like this. I took her out of the orphanage the moment I had the chance. Amal was thirteen then.
In the four years we’ve lived together, we’ve been through a lot, and it would be fair for her to show me at least a little consideration. But no such luck.
“They were planning to head to Dzhmelyk’s cottage,” one of Amal’s classmates told me. “I overheard them making plans…”
I got to the vacation area by bus. But where to go from there, I had no clue. Which of these neat little houses, hidden behind a curtain of snow, belonged to Amal’s classmate? I didn’t know. They gave me the street name—third from the bus stop. And the house was described as a two-story cottage.
So here I am, trudging through knee-deep snow—snowplows haven’t made it out here. It’s not snowing much anymore, and it’s not even that cold outside. But considering my three-year-old boots have holes in them, I can barely feel my feet. I came here with so much determination, but now I just want to cry again from sheer helplessness. If I don’t find my sister, I might just freeze out here among these snowdrifts.
Okay, I won’t actually freeze. I’ll sneak into one of these cottages and spend the night. But I’d really rather not break the law. The last thing I need is trouble with the police.
It’s precisely the fear of the police that pushed me to go looking for Amal. If she gets into trouble, they’ll take away my guardianship. I’ll get fined. Amal will be sent back to the orphanage, and… well, nothing good awaits me.
I peer into windows as I pass by. I figure if Amal were in one of these houses with her friends, I’d hear them from a mile away. Teenagers love loud parties. But the vacation community is eerily quiet. So quiet that I start to doubt whether anyone’s even here this weekend.
That is, until I notice a light in one window. Tire tracks lead up to this cottage, though they’re already half-covered with fresh snow. So someone arrived here pretty recently. I adjust my scarf, which has slipped down from my face, letting the sparse snowflakes sting my cheeks, and head toward the house. Maybe Amal’s there.
Maybe whoever lives there has seen her… Or maybe I can at least warm up for a bit.
I approach the door and knock hard with my fist. In response, I hear a baby crying. So my sister definitely isn’t here. Probably a young family. I feel a bit awkward now, but I don’t have the energy to turn back. I need at least a short break. And I’d rather get it legally.
A few minutes later, the door opens. A guy in a light hoodie stands in the doorway. His hair is messy, and his eyes look worried, almost frightened.
“Good evening,” I say. “I’m looking for my sister…”
“That’s amazing! I think I’ve got her!” He grabs my sleeve and pulls me inside. “You can’t imagine how glad I am that you’re here. I don’t know how you found me, but this is just perfect.”
The baby behind him cries even louder. I’m completely baffled as to how Amalia could possibly be here.
The guy drags me into a small living room that takes up half of the first floor.
“Here!” he says. “Yours?” He gestures toward the couch.
Something is moving there… something making desperate sounds. I step closer and see a baby.
“Wait, you think I’m here for a baby?” I ask. The child’s cries are grating on my nerves, so without thinking, I pick it up. It’s heavy. Looks about a year old, maybe a bit more. Well-fed. The little one grabs at me with tiny fingers and starts crying again. Its small face scrunches up, a few tiny teeth visible between its lips, tears streaming from its eyes. “Is it hungry or something?”
“Maybe it is,” the guy says, clearly at a loss. “I have no idea what they eat…”
He’s odd. I rock the baby a little. The stranger said it’s a girl, but I’m not so sure. Not that it matters. I need to find Amal, not deal with the problems of a young dad.
“Can you feed her?” he pleads. “I’m going to lose my mind if she keeps crying like this. I couldn’t drive out of here to take the baby to the police… And then take her and tell your mother to be more careful with her parental responsibilities. She’s lucky it was me who found her!”
“This isn’t my sister,” I say. But I already know, whatever happened with this guy, I’m not leaving the baby alone with him. He’s strange, as I’ve already noted. I need to figure out what’s going on and ensure the baby’s safety. If not me, then who?