No answer.
I slowly raised the lid.
And froze.
Two terrified little girls were crouched inside, staring up at me with huge frightened eyes.
They looked like twins and couldn’t have been older than three.
They had matching dark curls, round cheeks, and enormous brown eyes.
One wore a yellow T-shirt with a faded butterfly. The other had a pink shirt and mismatched socks.
Their knees were dirty, and one girl’s lower lip trembled.
For a moment, I thought they might be playing hide-and-seek.
I smiled and softened my voice.
“What are you two doing in there?” I asked. “You can’t hide in a trash can. It’s yucky. If you’re playing hide-and-seek, let’s find you a better hiding spot.”
Neither smiled.
They only stared at me, frightened and uncertain.
Then one finally whispered.
“We’re not playing,” she whispered. “We’re just hiding.”
She glanced toward the house next door before looking back at me.
“Please don’t let him know that we are here.”
A chill ran through me.
I lowered the lid slightly, just enough to block anyone’s view from across the street.
“Who are you hiding from?” I asked quietly.
The girl in yellow pressed a finger to her lips.
Her sister began crying silently.
I looked toward the neighboring house.
Every curtain was closed.
“Okay,” I murmured. “You don’t have to tell me yet. But you can’t stay in here.”
The girl in pink shook her head quickly.
“No house.”
“Not your house,” I promised. “Mine.”
Both girls looked at me.
I lifted the lid and reached down.
“Come on. I’ll help you.”
They exchanged a look far too serious for children so young.
Finally, the girl in yellow reached up.
She was lighter than I expected.
I lifted her out first, then her sister.
Both immediately wrapped their arms around my legs.
Their fingers gripped my jeans so tightly I could feel them trembling.
“My name is Carla,” I said. “What’s yours?”
The girl in yellow whispered, “Lily.”
Her sister answered, “Lucy.”
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