Chapter 1
The street was quiet that morning.
Not peaceful.
Quiet like everyone had agreed not to hear the hungry people.
Cars rushed past with their windows up.
Women in warm coats walked faster when they saw me.
Men stepped around me like I was a stain on the sidewalk.
I was eight years old, curled beside a cracked concrete wall behind an old bakery, trying to make my knees cover my stomach.
My shoes had holes in both soles.
My sweater was too thin.
My fingers were so cold I could barely bend them.
I had not eaten since yesterday morning.
Maybe longer.
When hunger stays long enough, time starts to blur.
I pressed my cheek against my knees and tried not to cry.
Crying made my throat hurt.
Crying made people look once, then look away faster.
Then I heard footsteps stop.
Not rush past.
Stop.
I lifted my eyes.
A girl stood in front of me.
She looked about my age, but she belonged to another world.
Her camel coat was clean.
Her hair was brushed.
Her cheeks were pink from the cold, not gray like mine.
She held a fresh loaf of bread wrapped in paper.
The smell almost made me dizzy.
She stared at me with wide brown eyes.
Not disgust.
Not fear.
Something softer.
“Are you okay?” she whispered.
I did not answer.
People asked questions sometimes.
Then they walked away before the answer could touch them.
The girl stepped closer.
“My name is Sophie,” she said. “What’s yours?”
I tucked my chin lower.
My real name felt dangerous.
A name was something people could take from you.
She looked at the bread in her arms.
Then at me.
Without another word, she tore the loaf in half.
Steam rose from the soft middle.
My stomach cramped so hard I almost doubled over.
She held one half toward me.
“Please,” she said. “Take it.”
I stared at her hand.
Clean nails.
Warm sleeve.
A gold bracelet with a tiny heart.
I wanted to grab the bread and run.
But my hand shook too much.
“I don’t have money,” I whispered.
Her face changed.
Like I had said something that hurt her.
“You don’t need money.”
I reached out slowly.
The bread was warm.
Real.
Mine.
I took one bite and nearly sobbed.
The crust scratched my lips.
The inside melted on my tongue.
I ate too fast.
Sophie sat down beside me on the dirty pavement like she had done it a hundred times.
She did not care about her coat.
She did not care about the mud.
She broke off another piece and pushed it into my hand.
“You can have more,” she said.
“Thank you,” I choked.
My eyes filled.
“I’m so hungry.”
Sophie’s lower lip trembled.
Then she did something no one had done since my mother disappeared.
She put her arms around me.
I froze.
My whole body forgot how to move.
I smelled soap and wool and bread.
I felt warmth.
For one tiny moment, the cold street went away.
The hunger went away.
The fear went quiet.
I let my forehead rest against her shoulder.
Then the heavy door behind us flew open so hard it slammed against the brick wall.
Sophie jerked.
I dropped the bread.
May you like
A woman’s voice cut through the air.
“Sophie Harper, get away from that filthy child right now.”
