She crouched under the bridge, cold and hungry and scared.
The only bag she’d been able to find was the Pan Am carryon her real dad had brought her as a souvenier, blue and white with a globe. She looked around her bedroom and thought of what she most cared about that would still fit into the bag. The signed Harry Potter book was probably worth money, but it was huge. Her ballerina jewlery box was way too big. Stuffed animals? No. Her journal? Would she ever want to read about that stuff again?
Her stomach growled as she shivered.