"Sometimes you pick your friends, sometimes they pick you."

They found her hiding beneath the docks near Notre Dame, clutching a pink shawl around her shoulders. She eyed them warily as they approached, her small body tensing as though to run. Drina quickly removed her headscarf, allowing her hair to fall freely around her shoulders and uncovering her mouth and nose with the hope of gaining a small bit of trust. The child did not relax, but her eyes lit up. They were green, Drina noted, an unusual color for a Rom child. She extended her hand.

"I won't hurt you, petit," she said gently. "None of us will. We only want to help." The girl stared at her without a word. "Where are your mama and papa?" Her small mouth thinned, and she shook her head.

"You are alone?" asked Nadya. The girl nodded, and the gypsies exchanged knowing looks—the judge's vendetta against them had strengthened in recent years. It was becoming more and more difficult for Roma to pass safely into Paris. Drina wondered just how much this little girl had seen. But it was pointless to dwell on the sad fact, and Nicolae produced a hunk of bread from his sack. The girl immediately stared at it.

"Are you hungry?" Nicolae asked, waving the bread slightly. Her eyes did not leave it as she nodded, and Nicolae took a few steps toward her. She twitched, but did not move, and he closed the short distance between them. The girl snatched the bread right out of his hand, but dropped it a moment later and pressed her hands to her mouth with a quickly stifled cry of pain. Drina rushed forward and knelt before her.

"What is wrong? Let me see," she said. She gently pried the child's hands away. Her lips were dotted with drops of blood—the scabs had cracked when she opened her mouth to take a bite of the bread. Drina tsked in a motherly way, and dabbed at the girl's mouth with the corner of her shawl. "Come, child, we'll take care of that." The girl gave her an uncertain look. "And you can have a warm meal."

Predictably, the child perked up at that idea. She nodded emphatically, and Drina smiled at her. With a quick nod to Nicolae and Nadya, she stood and took the girl's hand in her own. "Now, you must be quick and quiet," she warned, as her companions led the way to the bridge. "Did you ever play hide and seek with your parents?" The girl nodded. "This is a game just like that, but you have to keep moving so that you are not caught. Understand?" Those green eyes grew wide, and the girl nodded solemnly.

There was no telling how long she had been without food, but she was still strong enough to make the trip to the cemetery without stopping or slowing the group down. She nibbled at the bread as they went, always staring around alertly with those big eyes. Drina thought she looked a bit goofy, and the girl frowned slightly at her when she giggled, as if to say You told me to be quiet! You have to be quiet too!

When they reached the cemetery, Nicolae lifted her onto his back and told her to hold on tight as they descended the steep staircase beneath the stone. To her credit, she did not look frightened by the darkness, but she did eye the skeletons a bit uncertainly. Drina thought it best not to explain them to her.

As they neared the court, the girl's eyes lit up at the sound of voices. She looked at Drina, her face full of questions, and Drina just smiled at her.

"You'll see soon enough," she said.

They reached the first guard, hidden among the bones. Nadya nodded to him, and the child looked surprised to see him wave back. He wiggled his fingers at her, and she stared at him until Nicolae turned the corner and she couldn't see him. After that, she looked a little more suspiciously at each shadow and crevice.

"Drina's back!" someone shouted, as soon as they set foot in the court. The girl straightened up, her eyes widening to the size of dinner plates. She turned her head this way and that way, trying to take in her new surroundings all at once—the colorful tapestries and scarves hanging from the vaulted ceiling, the brightly painted vardo crammed together in crooked lines, and, best of all, the people! She smiled broadly at everyone, in spite of her cracked lips. People were coming out of their wagons, craning their necks to get a look at her, and she seemed to enjoy the attention.

"Who's this?" someone asked. Nadya shrugged.

"She didn't say. Djordji!" she called, raising her hand. The crowd parted quickly to let a tall man with broad shoulders through. The child looked him with a sort of bright curiosity, and he raised his eyebrows at her.

"A newcomer?" he asked. "Where are your parents, little one?"

"She was alone," Nicolae said quickly. "We...assumed that they were captured by Judge Frollo." Djordji nodded slowly, still watching the child.

"Her lips are cracked from the cold," Drina said. "I thought that we ought to put some salve on them before asking her to speak." At her words, a plump young woman hurried back into her wagon and returned a few moments later, holding a small tin of yellowish ointment. The child wrinkled her nose at it.

"It's only beeswax and honey," the woman assured her. "See?" She held it up for the girl to sniff. Once she was sure that the salve wasn't something gross, she allowed it to be smeared on her dry lips.

"Let that soak in for a few minutes," said Drina. Nicolae let the child down, and Drina took her hand. "It's nearly dinnertime. Do you like chicken?"

I love chicken, Esmeralda thought. She wanted to say it, but her lips still felt stiff and she didn't want to make them bleed again so she just nodded enthusiastically. The woman with soft hands led her down the line of vardo, towards a wagon with a bright blue roof. As they walked, a skinny boy joined them, walking backwards and staring down at Esmeralda.

"Who're you?" he asked. She just stared back at him. His nose is too big for his face, she thought. He leaned over and poked her nose. "Cat got your tongue, ma petit choufleur?" Esmeralda swatted his hand away and frowned. I'm not a cauliflower! The boy grinned at her. "Fiery little—"

"Go away, Clopin," said the woman with soft hands. "Isn't there someone else you could be bothering?"

"I could," Clopin said, mockingly contemplative, "but Drina, I'm rather enjoying bothering this little gem. Wouldn't you please tell me your name?" Esmeralda glared at him. She wasn't sure that it was okay to talk yet, and she didn't want to risk cracking her lips again. He put his hands on his hips. "Shall I make up a name for you? How about...Nuri?" Esmeralda shook her head firmly. "Dika? Aishe? Donka?"

"My name is Esmeralda!"

Everyone looked at her, and she tucked her chin quickly. She hadn't meant to shout. But nobody reprimanded her. Someone called, "Bonjour, Esmeralda!" and some people laughed. Clopin's grin widened, and he bowed so low that his oversized nose nearly brushed the ground.

"Well, la Esmeralda, it's an honor to meet you! I'm Clopin, Clopin Trouillefou."

"Hi," Esmeralda said, less meekly than she could have. Then she added, "I'm not a cauliflower."

"Oh, I know," said Clopin. Drina told Esmeralda to wait on the steps of her wagon and went inside, and Clopin tilted himself onto his hands. He gave Esmeralda another smile, upside-down this time. "You're much cuter than a cauliflower."

Esmeralda wasn't sure if that was a compliment.