Page 107 of The Glass Girl

I wish she’d stop talking, even though that’s a cruel thing to wish.

“He isn’t even my stepdad,” she goes on. “I just said that. I don’t know where my parents are. I never have. This is a foster. This place, here, is court-ordered. I know they aren’t going to take me back when my time is up. Everyone gets rid of me sooner or later.”

“Some people should not be allowed around children,” Gideon says grimly.

Holly’s breath has slowed. Her black hair is a curtain over her eyes.

“I hit a teacher,” she says. “I don’t even remember it. But that’s why I’m here.”

I shudder, thinking of when I hit Ms. Green’s desk.

“I think I’m done now,” Holly says to Gideon.

“Okay,” Gideon says. She reaches past Holly and turns off the shower. She takes the clothes and towel from my hands. “Turn around,” she says to me. “Watch the door.”

I do what she says, listening to the slide of the shower curtain, the wet smack of Holly’s clothes dropping to the shower floor, Gideon murmuring to her through the curtain.

I’m still watching the door when I feel Gideon’s breath on my neck, feel her words curl inside my ear.

“You did good, kid,” she breathes. “But remember,don’t tell.”

I nod.

Day Eleven

Brandy sidles up tome in the goat and chicken enclosure. It’s our first time here. Gideon is naming all the chickens for us, and the goats, but she’s going really fast and I can’t catch them all. Holly is sitting in a corner on the ground, a chicken in her lap, rubbing its downy back.

“Hey,” Brandy whispers. “What’s up with her? With you guys. Did something happen yesterday? You’ve all been acting really weird. You disappeared and then you were all so quiet.”

Gideon’s eyes flit to me as she talks about how much feed to put in the buckets.

“No,” I say evenly. “Nothing’s up. Bad phone calls, I guess.”

“You’re lying,” she says. “I can tell. You’re sticking to that girl like glue. Why?”

“Just being nice, is all. She’s sad. Not a big deal. We’re supposed to watch out for each other, remember?”

“Right,” Brandy says. But I can tell by her voice she doesn’t believe me.

Gideon sighs, shaking an empty bucket. “Hold on,” she says to us.

She goes to a door at the back of the coop and raps on it. Raps again.

“We need more,” she says. “Comeon.”

Charlotte comes out with a big bag in her arms, staggering a little under its weight.

“Right here,” she says. “Don’t have a cow.”

She giggles. Something’s weird about her face, somehow.

Gideon yanks the bag from Charlotte’s arms. Released from the weight, Charlotte falters backward.

“Cool it,” she tells Gideon, her voice sharp. “Just chill.”

Gideon stares at her in a hard way.

“No,” she says. “Youchill.”

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