"i'll make it by any means
i've got a pocketful of dreams."
___________

Night settles over New York City like a blanket, enveloping its residents in peaceful slumber. Other than the occasional car or rustling from alleyways, the streets are quiet and devoid of life.

In the darkness of a small apartment bedroom, a middle-aged woman with graying hair sits at the edge of the bed. A little girl sits under the covers beside her, fiddling dejectedly with her long braided hair. She sniffs and wipes tears from her round brown eyes, her freckled face twisted into a frown as she bites her lip to keep from crying again.

"Now, now, cheer up, darling," the woman soothes. "I know you're upset, but you can't stay sad forever."

"I...I just want my Mom and Dad back," the little girl sniffles. "Why can't I see them anymore, Ms. Joan?"

Ms. Joan gazes down at the nine-year-old with sympathy. To say that the girl's parents are troubled would be an understatement. When she'd started fostering her half a year ago, they were hardly able to keep up with their monthly rent, let alone raise a child. The one time she'd met them, the aroma of cigarette smoke clung to them both, and her father's breath had smelled of alcohol. For all of their problems, it's no wonder they'd lost custody of their daughter only days ago. She might've adopted the girl herself if she was prepared for such a big leap. Any day now Family Services will surely be back to reclaim her.

"Oh, sweetie," she murmurs. "You know your parents love you very much, don't you? They just can't take care of you like they want to."

"But now I'll never see them again," she whimpers. "They're going to take me away soon, aren't they? The people from the office?"

"Well, yes, but think about it this way: soon you'll have a brand new family, and a brand new place to live. Won't that be nice?"

"But I don't want another family. I don't wanna keep moving around and leaving everyone. I just want my mom and dad, or at least to stay here with you."

"I know, sweetheart. But I think I know what'll cheer you up," the woman smiles softly. "How about I sing you our special song? The one that makes us smile when we're sad."

The little girl's freckled face brightens slightly. "Yes, please."

Ms. Joan nods and closes her eyes. She starts to sing in a soft voice, sending the tune drifting through the room like a gentle breeze.

"Smile though your heart is aching
Smile even though it's breaking
When there are clouds in the sky
You'll get by."

"If you smile
Through your fear and sorrow
Smile and maybe tomorrow
You'll see the sun come shining through for you."

Ms. Joan takes a breath, ready to delve into the next verse, but the sharp briiiing! of the telephone from the kitchen cuts her off. She sighs, rubbing her temple, and stands up.

"I'm sorry, dear, but I've got to take this," she says. "You go ahead to sleep, alright?"

Disappointment sends the girl's heart plummeting, but she masks it with a weak giggle as her foster mother rumples her hair. Ms. Joan moves toward the door, uttering two final words before she shuts it gently.

"Sweet dreams."

Other girls her age dream of being princesses or fairies, but her dreams aren't nearly as sweet—all she fantasizes of is a normal life. She's never gone to the same school or even lived with the same family for longer than a year. All her memories from the past nine years are scattered, the faces of the friends and families she's known blurred and faded. She barely even remembers her own parents; their faces, like so many others, are lost to her memory. Her life is like a merry-go-round that she wants off of, a never-ending circle that makes her dizzy. They tell her her parents will be back to get her soon, but they never come, and she's shipped off to the next family for them to tell her the same thing. And now, chances are she'll never see them again.

All she wants is a normal, happy family, like the kind she sees smiling on TV or in the picture books she reads. Is that so much to ask?

The girl sniffles, tears welling along her lashes again, but this time she does nothing to suppress them. She doesn't know how long she's been crying, tears streaking down her face like raindrops, but when she looks up the first hints of daylight filter in through her bedroom window. She sits up, rubbing at her bloodshot eyes. All her life she's been dragged from place to place, powerless to do anything, and soon she'll be taken from yet another home. How easy it would be to slip out that window and disappear into the city, where she'd be free from her prison of a life. Better yet, she could find her parents—they must still be out there somewhere.

If they won't come for me, then maybe I'll come for them.

She could find them all by herself, and then they'd finally be together like they were always meant to be. No one could ever separate them again.

She nods and slinks back to the living room. Mrs. Joan isn't awake yet, but her purse sits on the couchside table. Straining herself on her tip-toes to reach it, the little girl grabs the bag and turns it over, watching its contents spill out onto the floor. All her life she's been taught that stealing is wrong, that only naughty boys and girls would ever do such a thing. Then again, all her life she's also been told she'd see her parents again someday—who knows what's true or not anymore?

The tiny brunette slings the empty purse over her arm. She's about to embark on an adventure, like the kind she sees in movies and reads about in books. And like the heroes in those stories, she'll find her happy ending. She moves quietly, stuffing the purse to the brim with possessions from around the apartment—her hairbrush, a few packs of snacks, a couple of dollars from her foster mother's wallet. Once the bag is near-full, she edges back to her room and climbs onto the windowsill.

She grits her teeth, heaving with all her might. Her little arms strain and tremble, but she manages to slide her bedroom window up, slipping through the small space and out onto the fire escape with ease. Before her, the sun ascends slowly on the horizon, staining the sky as scarlet as her name. She drinks in the crisp morning air, letting it stir the strands of hair that have come loose from her braid. For the first time in her life, she's tasted freedom, and she's hungry for more.

The girl can't help but spare a wistful glance over her shoulder. A pang of guilt strikes her heart—she can only imagine the look on Ms. Joan's face when she wakes and finds her gone. For a moment, she hesitates. But she's quick to turn away, shaking her head clear.

This is something she has to do. For the first time in her life, she'll be free. And soon, she's sure, she'll be reunited with the ones she loves.

She sniffs and begins her descent, clambering down fire escape after fire escape until her feet touch the concrete below. Her heart starts to race as her eyes take in the city before her, a vast, glittering maze full of possibilities and excitement. Her grand adventure has begun, and she won't quit until she's found her happy ending.

"Mom? Dad?" she whispers. "I'm coming to find you."

The little girl steals away into the city, following the light of the rising sun.