It was about mid-May when Boots showed up. It was early, and I was selling in my usual area in spite of the rain, but when I saw him, I jogged over to meet him. Something was up if he had come all the way from Manhattan. A small hope sprang up in me, but I refused to acknowledge it; I couldn't face crushed hopes again.
"Spot," he gasped, out of breath from the running. "Pearl over at Ms. Mina's sent me. She says a girl named Ingrid Smith showed up-says she's from Brooklyn but didn't have your permission to be there. She thought you would want to know." I nodded at him, my mind racing. Ingrid Smith? I only knew one Ingrid . . . Katja! That hope leapt up in me again, and before Boots knew what was happening, I had dropped my papes and was sprinting toward Manhattan. The rain was picking up, but I hardly noticed as I crossed the bridge and ran through the East Side streets to Ms. Mina's.