Page 155 of The Glass Girl

I pray that it lasts.

Ms. Ferris is sitting behind her desk, typing away at her laptop.

I just stand there, waiting. Finally, she looks up.

“Yes, yes, come in,” she says in a rushed way. “Sorry, finishing up an email. Sit, sit.”

I have to take some files off the chair across from her desk and I stand, holding them in my hands, until she notices and takes them, adding them to a towering pile of folders.

She peers at me over her glasses. “And you are…?”

“Bella,” I say. “We were supposed to talk about—”

“Yes,” she says, snapping her fingers. “Bella. I have you right here. Sorry. Three thousand kids, I have a lot of appointments.”

She slips a folder from the pile and skims it. Looks at me over her glasses again. Her eyes are rimmed with pink, and there’s a coffee stain on the collar of her gray shirt.

“Okay. So it looks like you kept up with some work at Sierra, that’s good, that’s good, you’re not too behind, but there might be some summer school, just prepare yourself.And I have a note from your mom about gym and your scars, so I did send an email to Ms. Greer about not dressing out—”

“Excuse me,” I interrupt.

“Yes, what is it? You do want to dress out or you don’t?” Her voice is impatient.

“I don’t…That’s not me. I don’t know what Sierra is, and I don’t…have any scars.”

She stares at me.

“I’m Bella Leahey?” I say tentatively. “I was at Sonoran Sunrise for two months.”

A light goes on behind her eyes.

“Oh,” she says quietly. “I’m sorry. Excuse me. I have the wrong file. I’ve got two Bellas who were…well, you’re BellaLeahey.Yes. I know you now.”

I wince.

I know you now.She means the video. I know it.

She pulls another file from her enormous tower and opens it. After reading for a second, she closes it and takes off her glasses, leans forward on her elbows.

She clears her throat.

“You,”she says, “are definitely going to summer school.”

—

Ms. Ferris escorts me to first period since I’m late and she’s run out of tardy slips.

I hesitate at the door.

She opens it and pops her head in.

Mr. Lopez glances up from his desk in the corner.

“Bella Leahey,” Ms. Ferris says.

I look at my feet. My face is blazing with heat.

“Come here,” Mr. Lopez says.

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