The car hummed and the houses blurred past. Maya pressed her forehead to the cool glass and watched the street disappear. Her fingers gripped the edge of her blanket as the road kept going.
They arrived at a house that wasn't hers. The mailbox looked strange and new. A breeze shivered through the oak tree in the front yard, and its low branches seemed to lean closer.
Maya stepped onto the grass and followed a worn path to the trunk. She pressed her palm flat against the rough bark and felt something small tucked in a hollow near the roots.
She pulled out a faded wind-up frog with a cracked green shell and a tiny key. Maya wound the key twice, and the frog leaped into the grass with a squeak.
Maya climbed onto the lowest branch and sat with the frog beside her. She opened her backpack and found a small cardboard box inside.
Inside the box was a blue marble and a folded drawing. The drawing showed two sticks holding hands under a yellow sun.
Maya placed the marble on the branch beside the frog and held the drawing close. She thought about the blue glass and how it caught the light like a tiny sky.
Maya climbed down and walked back to the new house. The frog went into one pocket and the box stayed in the other. She set the box on the windowsill and watched the sun paint orange stripes on the floor.