I stopped in my tracks. Where is Yael? The bathroom light is on and the door ajar but I can see that no one is in there.
I step into the room and study it by the soft glow of my old nightlight. Ima really put effort into making this room into a nice bedroom to welcome our new foster child. Laminated picture books are lined up like soldiers on the shelf and the heads and arms of a couple of dolls and stuffed animals are peeking out of the toy box on the floor.
I know there are bars on the window because we live on the fourth floor and my parents are very safety conscious but I check anyway. The blinds are closed and the pink Hello Kitty curtains are hanging symmetrically. Should I call my parents? It’s possible that Yael woke up in this unfamiliar bed and is just wandering around the house somewhere. If I can find her I won’t have to alarm them.
I go from room to room opening the doors and calling her name. “Yael? Yael where are you?” but they’re all empty. I go back to her bedroom. Her bed is still empty. Hmm there’s no blanket in sight. What could that mean? On a hunch I look under the bed and there she is rolled up in her blanket and squished with her back against the wall.
