Page 116 of The Glass Girl

It’s cold out there.

My insides feel like they’re caving in. She’s so thin and frail.

“The police will find her,” Brandy says. “She can’t get far. She’s not that sturdy.”

I press myself against the wall.

“When are they going to tell us what’s going on?” I ask Gideon. “When will they let us leave the room?”

Gideon is silent.

“They’ll keep us cooped up until tomorrow,” Charlotte says sleepily. “Probably. And restrict us to indoors for a day or two. Just to make sure nobody copycats.”

“We should do something,” I say. “We should go look for her.”

“There are people doing that,” Gideon says. “They’d never let us, anyway. They say if you run, good luck to you, but we’re minors, so they sent people out. The police were here. They didn’t come for that one guy because they caught him right away.”

“Just everybody go to sleep,” Brandy says. “Okay? That’s the best thing to do right now, I think.”

But I can’t.

Day Seventeen

“Check-in time,” Fran says.“Talk to me.”

We are gathered in the group room, splayed out on the beanbags.

No one says anything. There’s still no word on Holly.

“I know we’re all worried,” Fran says gently. “They’re still searching. When we know anything, we will tell you.”

“This sucks,” Billy says.

“It does,” Fran agrees. “Sometimes people run. Sometimes running is the only thing that seems like an option.”

I feel like my heart is going to burst. I keep thinking about Holly out there, In December. In the cold. It’s not like it’s below freezing or anything here, but it still gets pretty cold at night. And she hadnothingwith her. And in the shower, she told me and Gideon she didn’t like being alone. That she couldn’t be alone, and what if—

“It’s just—”

I stop myself.

Everyone’s looking at me.

“Yes, Bella?” Fran says.

“It’s just…I mean, what if she…I don’t know. Didn’t you notice her? The things she did? That she was—”

Beside me, Gideon nudges my arm.

Don’t tell.Right.

I swallow. “Nothing. Forget it. I just feel terrible. And I feel ashamed.”

“Ashamed?” Charlotte guffaws. “Why? It’s not your fault. Girl was mad-mad. She snapped.”

“She had a hard life, okay?” I say. “I feel stupid thinking about all my problems when hers were so much bigger, all right?”

“It’s not a competition,” Nick says.

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