Alex woke and stared at the ceiling, wondering when Mom had replaced his graffiti art bedding. Through the fog of sleep his mind tried to work out how his family could afford it. An imperial eagle holding up a royal red and blue canopy would cost several hundred dollars at least.
He lay like that for a minute doing the math. Dad’s salary as a math professor plus Mom’s cookbook royalties. Minus the cost of a new baby. It didn’t add up.
A chill wind blew in, and he pulled the heavy bedspread up to his chin. Something didn’t feel right. He blinked.
Alex pressed his hands into the mattress. Blue curtains fluttered over a picture window. An old-fashioned radiator hissed.
“Huh?” He threw his head back, hitting it against something hard.
“Ouch,” he said, rubbing his head.
Then he remembered
