The novel’s non-linear narrative structure is continues to be employed in these chapters to juxtapose Lucy’s present vulnerability with the origins of her hardened survivalism. By placing the 2009 hospital scenes, where Lucy is physically broken and dependent, directly before the 2004 flashback, the narrative establishes a causal link between past her trauma and present psychology. In the hospital, Lucy is defined by her injuries—a fractured femur and a concussion—which render her powerless and force her to rely on Daunis and Jamie. This physical state contrasts with the agency she wielded aged 14 when she destroyed her adoptive mother’s storage unit. Chapter 12 demonstrates how her past influences her guarded behavior in the present. Her distrust of Daunis’s kindness and her strategic planning for escape are presented as learned responses forged by the betrayals of her past, from Bridget’s abandonment to the indifference of the foster care system. This structural choice deepens empathy for Lucy by showing the layers of her traumatic experiences.

These chapters build the novel’s critique of The System’s Betrayal of Vulnerable Children, illustrating how institutional directives can sever Indigenous youth from their communities, enabling them to be victimized and exploitative. The flashback to Lucy’s first encounter with the foster care system provides a stark example of this systemic erasure. Her social worker advises her against acknowledging her heritage, stating, “I wouldn’t mention it, Lucy […] It complicates everything. Just say you’re Mexican” (94). This instruction represents a systemic preference for administrative ease over the well-being and cultural integrity of the child, directly subverting the intent of the Indian Child Welfare Act (ICWA). The narrative positions Jamie’s work with Raven Air as a thematic counterpoint and practical solution. His explanation of ICWA as a protection against state-sanctioned family separation contextualizes Lucy’s personal experience as part of a broader historical struggle. This systemic failure is further underscored by the separation of Lucy and her foster sister, Devery, after a cabin fire. The system prioritizes logistics over their deep, sisterly bond, reinforcing the novel’s argument that bureaucracy is unconcerned with providing compassionate care or acknowledging children’s emotions.

Through Lucy’s internal monologue and deliberated actions, the narrative explores survival as a daily performance, a key element of the theme Navigating a World of Secrets and Lies. Confined to a hotel suite, Lucy adopts personas to manage her new guardians and conceal her intentions. Her decision to feign enjoyment of Jamie’s bitter coffee is a conscious tactic—based on advice from Devery about building rapport with foster parents—designed to create a favorable connection. This small deception is a microcosm of her larger strategy: Lucy mimics while secretly assessing her environment, testing her physical limits, and planning her escape. Her internal reflection that “[t]he ultimate survival game is for girls to survive into adulthood” (79) frames her secrecy as a necessary tool in a world where predators often occupy positions of authority. This runs parallel to Daunis’s tale of Jamie’s past as an undercover tribal officer, where his false identity resulted in personal betrayal. For Lucy, deception is a deeply ingrained and solitary mode of self-preservation in a world that has repeatedly shown itself to be hostile. Lucy’s desperate need for her father’s watch at this time signifies her attachment to it as a reminder of past security: It is a tangible link to a “normal” past and the memory of unconditional love.

The flashback to Beaver Island initiates Lucy’s first, albeit indirect, engagement with her Anishinaabe heritage, setting a precedent for the theme of Reclaiming Identity and Family. Abe Charlevoix introduces Lucy to the practice of offering semaa (tobacco) and the concept of miigwech (thank you). This simple act of giving thanks establishes a worldview based on reciprocity and respect, a spiritual framework that stands in stark opposition to the transactional and exploitative nature of the foster homes Lucy will later endure in the next section. While Lucy does not fully grasp its full cultural significance at the time, this lesson resonates deeply enough for her to continue its practice. This initial exposure to Anishinaabe tradition prefigures Lucy’s increasing reassimilation into her maternal cultural heritage in following chapters.