Pippa asked me to go out and get some bread after dinner later in the week.  We'd already run out for our school lunches.  I tucked the $10 bill she'd given me in my pocket and walked down the sidewalk to the corner grocery store.  I made a beeline to aisle four, picked out the healthy whole grain bread she usually bought and headed for the checkout lane.  I grabbed myself a soda as well.

I paid the cashier and took the items without a bag.  As I was walking out I ran into someone.  I stumbled back and looked up to see America, her face red like she'd just been crying.  Several things she'd been carrying fell to the ground.  Though I hated her, my good manners took over.  I knelt down and helped her pick up her things.  I saw a flyer for Graham Windham, which, from my dad's research into Hamilton, I knew was Eliza Hamilton's orphanage.

"Thanks," she muttered, her voice defeated.  As we stood up, I looked at her again.  She was a mess.

"America...are you...are you okay?" I asked her gently.

"Why would you care?" she snapped, wiping at her face.

"Sorry," I apologized.  "I know we haven't exactly been friends but you look really upset."

"Yeah, well I haven't had the greatest week," she told me.  I nodded.

"The police were looking for your mom," I told her.

"Yeah, it's not the first time," she continued to wipe under her eyes and sniffle.  "I'm stuck at Graham Windham until she gets all her shit figured out."

"I'm sorry," I told her.

"Really?  I thought you'd love to see me suffering?"

I thought I would have, but this was terrible.  She was just a kid, after all, like me.  "Do you need anything?"

"No," she told me.  "I can take care of myself."

"Are you coming back to Hunter?"

"I don't know," she said.  "And frankly I don't care.  Everyone there hates me."

We were silent for a few moments.  I bit my lip and sighed and got out my little notebook I kept in my purse.  I quickly scribbled down my phone number.  "Hey, if you need anything, let me know.  Seriously."

She stared at the paper in my outstretched hand for a moment, considering whether to take it or not.  Finally, she slowly reached out and took it.  She stuffed it in her jeans pocket.

"Thanks," she said.  I nodded, then stepped around her.  I quickly walked home and locked the door behind me.  Dad was cleaning up the kitchen.  He glanced up at me, went back to what he was doing, then looked at me again longer.

"You look like you've seen a ghost," he told me.  I tossed the bag of bread on the counter, then unscrewed the cap on my soda bottle.

"I just saw America at the store," I told him, sitting on one of the bar stools.

"Yeah?" he asked.  "She didn't say anything to you, did she?"

I shook my head.  "No.  She'd been crying."

Dad scrubbed at a tomato sauce stain on the counter, watching me.  "She said she's at Graham Windham now."

Dad raised his eyebrows and tossed the sponge into the sink.  "That sucks.  Might be a better environment for her than with her mom though."

"Yeah, maybe," I said.  I don't know why I felt so sad.  It just really sucked that America had to live in an orphanage.  No kid deserved that.

"You okay?" he asked as he got a cookie from the pantry.

"I don't know," I said honestly.  "I mean, America and I have never gotten along, but I feel bad for her, you know?"

Dad popped an Oreo in his mouth and nodded.  "Well, hopefully her mom will get her legal problems squared away."

"That could take forever, though, couldn't it?" I asked him.  Dad crossed his arms, thinking.

"Possibly," he agreed.  "Why, what are you thinking?"

"I don't know," I told him.  "I just didn't like to see her so upset.  Even though she's been a total bitch to me."

"That's big of you," he told me.  I shrugged and took my soda back to my bedroom.  I turned on some music and tried to take my mind off America.

Dad always tried to instill empathy in us kids.  What was life like in someone else's shoes?  What could we do to help someone else?  Though America and I seemed to hate each other, I tried to think of what her life must be like.  I didn't know where her dad was, but her mother was a real piece of work.  Had she been carted around the state, the country, as her mom tried to dodge legal issues?  Did she have to change her name?  America must have changed school tons of times.  That would be hard.  Maybe that's why she was so hard and mean, because the world had been hard and mean to her.

I sighed and collapsed onto my bed.  I wasn't in the mood to do homework so I just tinkered around on my phone for a while.  About ten minutes later, I got a text message from an unknown number.

This is America.  Thanks for talking earlier.  I might be able to go back to school 2morrow.

That's good news.  Hopefully you'll be back with your mom soon.

She didn't text back, but I never pictured her ever texting me in the first place.  I wondered if she had any friends at all.

Sure enough, the next day America was back at school.  She didn't have a scowl or smirk on her face as usual.  She looked sad and lonely.   We met eyes and she gave me a small smile.  I smiled back.

After school, I saw her sitting on the steps outside school.  I adjusted my backpack straps as my siblings followed me. 

"Wait for me at the bottom of the steps," I told them all.  Molly took the twins down and gave me a quizzical look when she saw who I wanted to talk to.  I took a chance and sat down next to her.

"Hey," I said gently.

"Hey," she looked down at the ground in front of her.

"Good first day back?" I asked.

"Not really," she said.  "I have tons of makeup work."

I nodded in understanding.  Missing even a day at Hunter could put you way behind.

"You could come to my house," I offered.  "I could try to help you catch up."

She laughed humorlessly.  "Why would you want to do that?"

I shrugged.  "Just to be nice," I said.  "We have cookies."

She smirked a little, considering, then agreed.  We walked down the rest of the steps and met my siblings.

"Who are you?" Raina asked America.

"My name's America.  I used to be your neighbor," she replied.

"Do you like playing Legos?"

"Definitely," America replied.  We all caught the subway and rode it to our apartment.  It was a little weird walking past America's apartment and her not going in.  I wonder if she still had some of her stuff in there.

We all dropped our bags at the door and the kids immediately went for the pantry.

"I get the last fruit snack!" Felix called as they fought for what they wanted.

"Hey, hey," Pippa chided as she walked in.  "Be gentle."

She looked up and saw America.  I'm not sure if she'd ever actually met her before.

"Hello," she smiled at America.  "I'm Pippa, Cam's stepmother.  Are you a friend from school?"

America looked at me and I pursed my lips.  "Uhh...not exactly."

"Pippa, this is America.  She used to live down the hall.  Sofia's daughter."

"Uh....oh," she said in surprise, moving some stuff around on the counter that didn't need to be moved.  "Well, welcome.  Have you gotten a snack?"

"We're just waiting for the goblins to clear," I told her.  The twins ran to the living room to watch TV and Molly went straight to her room.  I don't think Pippa really knew what to say so she just wandered off to take care of some laundry.

America and I both grabbed a Pop Tart and went to my room with our backpacks.  We spread out on the floor and America got out her assignment notebook.  Its lined were filled.  She sighed heavily as she looked through her stuff.

"This is gonna take me forever," she told me.

"You'll get through it," I told her.  "Do your least favorite subject first.  Get it out of the way."

"That would be math," she said, grabbing the massive Algebra textbook.

"Likewise," I said, getting out my own.  We started to go through her missing assignments.  I had followed the lessons okay, so I was able to explain things reasonably well.  America seemed grateful to have the little tutoring session.  Once she seemed okay, we both got to work.  I didn't envy America in many ways.  Her life was a mess and she was swamped with school work.

When Dad got home he stopped by my room to say hi.  He nearly fell over when he saw who was with me.

"Is...everything okay?" he asked me nervously.

"Yep," I smiled at him to reassure him.  "America has tons of makeup work for school so I'm helping her."

"That's nice of you," he said.  "America, are you staying for dinner?"

She looked at me and I smiled.  "Uhh...sure.  If you don't mind?"

"We have six people in our family," Dad said.  "What's one more?"

He smiled and closed my door.

"Your parents seem nice," she told me.

"Yeah," I agreed.  "They're okay."

Sometimes I forgot how awesome they were.  Every teenager fought with their parents and thought they hated them at some point.  But really I was pretty lucky.

"I've always wanted brothers and sisters," she said.  "It's always just been me and Mom."

"Sounds kinda lonely," I admitted.  She nodded as she wrote down an answer.

"I wish I had your family," she said.  I looked up at her hesitantly.  I felt bad for the kid but I didn't know if I wanted her spilling her life story to me.  Still, it seemed like she needed someone to talk to.

"Well, when you grow up and get married, maybe you'll have four kids," I told her smiling, trying to keep things light.  She smirked a little.

"Yeah, maybe," she said.  "Whatever I do, I won't turn psycho like my mother."

____

America and I worked for a good hour and a half before being called for dinner.  Pippa had made spaghetti and meatballs with dinner rolls and salad.  America had seconds and looked like she hadn't had a home cooked meal in forever.  She complimented Pippa's cooking and offered to help with the dishes.  I could tell she didn't really want to leave.

It was dark out now and America still needed to get back home.  Well, to the orphanage.  Dad knocked on my bedroom door again.

"America, do you want me to take you home?" Dad offered.  "It's pretty late and it's dark out."

"Uh, yeah," she said, closing her science book.  "Thanks."

"Sure," he told her, hands in his pockets.  I told America goodbye and she thanked me for my help.  She left with Dad and continued with my homework.

Dad got back about twenty minutes later and came back to my room.  He sat on my bed as I continued to work with my stuff spread all over the floor.

"I think we may have misjudged America," he told me.

"Yeah, maybe," I said.  "I guess having a psycho mother is hard on a kid."

"Yep," he agreed.  "Did she talk about her dad?"

"No," I told him.  "I didn't ask.  He must not live nearby."

He breathed out through his mouth.  "Poor kid."

I nodded and continued working.  The situation sucked, but I didn't know what to do about it.

"Well, I just wanted to say I'm proud of you for reaching out to her," he told me.  "I think she needed a friend."

I stopped my work and looked back at him, smiling a little.  I wasn't a kid anymore, but it still felt good to be praised by my dad.  I felt kind of proud of myself too.