Adopted by Jennifer Lawrence

[11]: Found a Library!

It's an actual underground church!

I told the pastor, "My mom said to meet her here because-" But before I could even finish building up my lie, he waved me in. "Come! Come in! The House of the Lord welcomes all I'm Reverend Raymond, this is Shawna, and we're here to help you in any way we can."

They are believers, and you know what? It's nice to be around them. I've taken a shower, gotten clean clothes, eaten a ton of baked spaghetti, and I've got my own mat, pillow, and blanket over here in the corner. And they haven't asked me once, "So... when did you say your mother was coming?"

If it wasn't for the druggies and schizos, I might actually feel comfortable.

* * *

August 1st

Summer is going by fast and I haven't even seen the ocean. I wasted yesterday sleeping. Except for stuffing my face during breakfast, lunch, and dinner, I slept the whole day away. I wasn't wide awake at night, in case you're wondering. I slept the whole night away, too.

It felt so good.

Still no questions about my mother.

Shawna made me go to church this morning. "Time to give thanks," she told me. "Time to let Him hear your gratitude."

"I'm grateful to you, anyway," I muttered.

"I'm just the messenger," she said with a smile. "Tell Him."

So I went into the "chapel" (a cramped room with a very low ceiling and folding chairs), and I listened to Reverend Raymond sermonize about the bounty of blessings the Lord has laid on the table for our feasting, and how the Light is the way for God's lost flock to find its way Home.

I was surprised to see so many children at the service. Maybe it's the bounty of donuts and orange drinks and coffee that the reverend and Shawna put out. After the sermon, everyone pigged out, tanked up, and took off.

* * *

4:45 PM I've lost track again

I should know better than to walk along the main streets. Cops use main streets. But when I left The People's Church, I wanted to get out of Cement City and to the ocean as fast as I could.

I almost asked Shawna about the beaches and which one she thought was the best, but I really didn't want her or the reverend to know where I was planning to go.

"Sweet child," she said, "I think we should get you some help. That mama of yours is just not showing up."

"Oh, she's coming," I told her, like I really believed it. "We've done this before and you don't mind me staying here, do you?"

"No, of course not! I'm just hopin' everything's okay."

"Everything's fine," I said. "And you've been really, really nice. Thank you."

So I acted like I was planning to stay longer, but the first chance I got, I stashed away a ton of food and took off.

According to a big billboard temperature sign that I saw, it was 101 degrees yesterday. Actually, I'm sure it was hotter than that. There's asphalt heat. I swear heat radiates off the street and jacks the temperature up another ten degrees. And all the air conditioners that are cranked up to cool off the inside of buildings pump hot air outside. So up in the sky where they've got that temperature signs it may be 101 degrees, but down here om the street with the fire-breathing air conditioners and asphalt, it's more like 120 degrees.

WHERE'S THE OCEAN?!

Too late to find that today, so let me finish telling you about the cops:

The same cop saw me, two days in a row. I recognized her and she recognized me, because how many twelve year olds with green corduroy pants (that's all they had at The People's Church that fit me) and an overstuffed backpack do you see hiking down the same street, miles from where you'd spotted them the day before?

But instead of doing something really constructive like offering me a lift to the ocean so I could jump in and COOL OFF, she pulled over and called, "Excuse me?"

I didn't pay one bit or attention to her. I just kept walking.

"Excuse me?" she said again, and this time she came onto the sidewalk.

I smiled at her and kept walking.

"Stop!" she commanded. "I'm talking to you!"

I turned and did something my mom used to do. I asked her, "Pardonnez-moi?" (Forgive me?) like I didn't understand a word she was saying.

She frowned at me and said, "You some two-pint tourist?"

I only know about three French words, but that's all my mom knew, either, so I did what she used to do: I made up whole sentences of phony French.

"Stop!" the cop snapped. "You don't understand English?"

"Oui! Oui!" (Yes! Yes!) I said, then spoke a bunch more of phony French. And in an effort to get away from her, I channeled my phony mother, Louise, as I curtsied and said, "Au revoir!" (Good bye!)

It worked. The cop threw her hands in the air, made some grumbling sounds, and got back in her cruiser.

Inside, I felt really good. Like both my mother and Louise were watching over me, helping me.