After a while, the paramedics shook their heads.
One of them took out a white sheet and gently covered the small body on the road.
That was when I finally understood.
I was dead.
Maybe that was not so bad.
At least the children at the group home would never have the chance to laugh at me.
The crowd slowly dispersed.
Police officers arrived. They took photos and set up tape around the scene.
Someone picked up my suitcase and placed it beside a patrol car.
But where was I supposed to go?
I did not know.
Before anything else, I wanted to see Mom and Dad one more time.
The wind blew through me. I did not feel cold. I only drifted along with it.
At the intersection, I saw a familiar car.
Dad's black sedan was driving slowly past the accident scene.
I chased after it as if it were a lifeline, slipped through the closed window, and landed in the back seat beside my little brother.
The car was warm. The heater hummed softly.
"There were so many people back there," Mom said from the passenger seat. "Was there an accident?"
Dad glanced at the rearview mirror. "Looked like it. Ambulance and police were there."
My little brother sat beside me, completely focused on a new remote-control car. Its tiny lights blinked on and off. It was so pretty.
"The amusement park was so fun!" he suddenly said, his eyes shining. "Mom, can we go again?"
Mom smiled at him gently. "Of course. We'll go again this weekend."
"I want cotton candy too!" he said, swinging his legs.
"We'll buy it," Dad said, smiling at him through the mirror. "We'll buy everything. Did you have fun today?"
"So much fun!"
The air in the car was light and happy.
Mom scrolled through the photos she had taken that day, laughing softly from time to time.
Dad hummed along with the music.
My brother kept playing with his new toy.
I looked at the three of them, and something sour and heavy spread through my chest.
So it was true. This family was fine without me.
"Oh, right." Mom suddenly remembered something and pulled a box from a shopping bag. "I almost forgot."
My eyes lit up.
It was a brand-new Barbie doll, exactly like the one my brother had broken.
"We had to check so many stores," Mom said, examining the packaging carefully. "But we finally found the last one. It's the same as Lily's, right?"
Dad glanced over. "Exactly the same. She'll love it."
"You really shouldn't have said that to her," Mom murmured. "She's still a child. Noah broke her favorite toy. Of course she got upset."
"I know," Dad said, rubbing his nose awkwardly. "I lost my temper. It was my fault."
Mom put the box back into the bag. "She's probably still sulking at home. When we get back, you take the doll and apologize to her."
"I will," Dad said, his voice softening. "Did you buy the strawberry cake?"
"I did. From her favorite bakery." Mom turned slightly toward the back seat, her gaze gentle. "And a new hair clip too. A moon-shaped one, just the kind she likes."
Noah lifted his remote-control car. "Does Lily get a new toy too?"
"Of course," Mom said. "Everyone gets one."
I stared at the new doll, at Mom's expectant face, at the guilt hidden in Dad's eyes.
All at once, I understood.
They were not getting rid of me.
They had not come home late to force me to leave.
They had gone from store to store just to find me an identical doll.
They had bought strawberry cake and a moon clip.
They had even planned how to apologize.
They still loved me.
But it was too late.
