Ever since my baby brother was born, I started getting "lost." My stepfather, Mark, would leave me at amusement parks, beaches, outside grocery stores, on busy streets... Six times, I managed to find my way back or get help. Each time I returned home, my mother’s cold indifference chilled me to the bone. The seventh time I got lost, I met a kind woman. "Sweetie, would you like to be my daughter?" I nodded. "Yes, please." My stepfather and mother happily gave me away to her. They didn't know that I was the family's lucky charm. Without me, their luck was about to run out. 1 My name is Chloe. I am seven years old. This is the seventh time I've been lost. I stood at a busy intersection, cars whizzing by, waiting alone for my stepfather, Mark, to come back for me. Half an hour ago, Mark took me to the supermarket to buy soy sauce. When we got to the crosswalk, he said he forgot his wallet and had to go back. He told me to wait at the corner. He said he'd be back in fifteen minutes tops. But now, thirty minutes had passed, and he wasn't back. The sky had turned dark, neon lights reflecting the city's bustle. I looked up toward the direction of my apartment building, trying to guess which lighted window was ours. My mom, Brenda, should be giving my little brother, Tyler, a bath right now. Mom made bone broth soup today. Before I left, I went to the kitchen just to smell it. Mark said, "Chloe, come down with Daddy to buy soy sauce, and you can have soup when we get back." The six previous times I got "lost" made me scared to go out. I shook my head. "It's getting dark. I don't want to go." Brenda came out of the bathroom and said, "Chloe, go with Daddy, or no soup for you." Mark was often mean to me. I didn't want to go alone with him. But I wanted the soup, and I didn't want Mom to yell at me. If I didn't go, not only would I get no soup, but Mom would pull a long face and call me disobedient. "Okay, Daddy. I'll go with you." I held Mark's hand and left. 2 Forty minutes passed. Mark still hadn't come back. I was panicking, remembering the last six times. Mark always left me in strange places. A few times, I almost didn't make it. The last time I found my way home, a neighbor kid, Leo, told me: "Chloe, your parents like your brother. They don't like you!" I argued, face red, "My parents love me! They say I'm the most obedient!" Leo mocked, "Then why do you always get lost? Are they trying to get rid of you? You're treated worse than a stray dog. If someone loses a dog, they look for it. Your parents don't." Leo's words reminded me of something from when I was three. Mom was pregnant with Tyler. Mark said pregnant women shouldn't be around cats, so he had to get rid of my favorite kitten, Tangerine. I remember Mark carrying Tangerine to this exact intersection and throwing him into the bushes by the road. That day, Mark held my hand as we crossed the street. I cried so hard, looking back at the abandoned kitten. Mark and Mom didn't want the cat. Did they not want me now, either? I didn't believe it. Mom said giving birth to me hurt a lot. Even if Mark didn't like me, Mom wouldn't abandon her baby. I had to walk back myself. This time, I would ask Mom directly: Do you not want me anymore? 3 To get home, I had to cross the intersection. Teacher taught us: Red light stop, green light go. But whenever Mark or Mom took me across, they said, "Don't look at the lights, just go if there are no cars." So now, I was confused. Should I go on red or green? I decided to listen to the teacher. When the walk signal lit up, I stepped onto the zebra crossing. This was my first time crossing alone. I was terrified. Halfway across, someone took my hand. "Sweetie, why are you crossing alone? It's dangerous. Where are your parents?" The speaker was a young, beautiful woman. She was holding a small orange cat in one arm and holding my hand with the other. Her hand was warm. But my attention was on the cat. It looked just like Tangerine, only much bigger and wearing a cute little vest. "Tangerine. Tangerine," I called out. "Meow~" The cat responded excitedly. I recognized him. This was my cat. After crossing the street, the woman let go of my hand and squatted down. "Sweetie, where are your parents?" I burst into tears and reached out to pet the cat. "Auntie, my parents don't want me anymore. Just like they threw away Tangerine, they threw me away too. Waaaaah..." 4 The woman's name was Sarah. She put the cat down on its leash. She hugged me and comforted, "Don't cry. Take your time. Tell Auntie, what's your name? Why are you here alone?" I sobbed, gasping for air. "I'm Chloe. My daddy took me to buy soy sauce. He went back to get something and said he'd be back in fifteen minutes. I waited a long time. This is the seventh time I got lost. He doesn't want me." Sarah's face grew serious. She wiped my tears with a tissue. "What about your mom? When you got lost before, what did she say?" I sniffled. "Mom says I ran off by myself. But every time, Daddy leaves me there, and I wait obediently for them to find me..." Hearing this, Sarah held my hand. "Chloe, I live in the apartment complex just ahead. Why don't you come home with me first? I'll handle the rest." "Okay." I nodded. On the way, Sarah told me she found this cat three years ago in the bushes by the intersection. She saw Mark throw Tangerine into the bushes and walk away without looking back. I liked Sarah. Anyone who could take such good care of Tangerine had to be patient and loving.
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