The dust swirled around Brenda' s rusty trailer.
Inside, she was humming, a greedy sound.
"They're coming, Trash," she said, not looking at me. "Rich folks. Looking for their long-lost girl."
My heart beat a little faster. It was time.
Brenda grabbed Ashley, her own plump daughter, by the arm.
"You listen to me, Ash," Brenda hissed, shaking her. "You are Ava Hamilton. You got lost. You missed your mommy and daddy. Cry a little, look sad. Understand?"
Ashley, usually so smug, looked scared. "But Mom, what if-"
"No buts! This is our ticket out of this hellhole. Millions, Ash. Millions!"
Brenda shoved a faded picture of a smiling, younger Ava Hamilton into Ashley' s hand. "Look like her. Act like her."
I watched from the corner, scrubbing a pot with more force than needed.
Brenda had found an old news clipping about the missing Hamilton girl years ago. She' d been waiting for this, too, in her own twisted way.
She thought I was just some random street kid the traffickers had dumped. She didn't know I was the one who got away from the Hamiltons, the one they' d be truly desperate for.
The air grew heavy with Brenda's cheap perfume as she fussed over Ashley, trying to make her look less like a pampered brat and more like a rescued princess.
"Wipe that stupid look off your face, Ashley," Brenda snapped. "Look sad, I said! Think of all the chores you won't have to do."
Ashley tried to pout, but it looked more like she smelled something bad.
I almost smiled. This was going to be interesting.
Brenda glanced at me. "And you, Trash, stay out of sight. Don't you dare ruin this for us."
I nodded, my eyes downcast.
A sleek, black car, the kind that cost more than Brenda would see in ten lifetimes, crunched to a halt outside.
Brenda plastered a sorrowful, brave-mother look on her face. She smoothed her dress, a stained floral thing.
"Showtime," she muttered, then opened the door with a flourish.
"Oh, you must be the Hamiltons!" she cried, her voice dripping with false sympathy. "We've been praying for this day!"