The War that Saved My Life by Kimberly Brubaker Bradley

Finally I said, “Miss? What’re sheets?”
Sheets were the thin white blankets on the bed. Supper was something called
soup, that came in bowls. You were supposed to drink it from spoons, not
from the bowls themselves, which seemed like too much work. But I was
hungry, and the soup was salty and had bits of meat in it, so I did as I was
told.
Jamie refused to eat at all.
“If you want to go to bed hungry, you certainly may,” Miss Smith said.
“Soup is all I’ve made and soup is all there is to eat.”
This was a lie and we all knew it. Her cupboard held all sorts of food. But
Jamie’d gone to bed hungry before. It wouldn’t kill him.
At night he cried into his pillow and in the morning he’d wet the bed again.
“I want to go home,” he said. “I want to see Billy White. I want to be like
always. I want to go home.”
I didn’t. Not ever. I had run away once and I’d run away again.