Page 137 of The Glass Girl

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In the hall, she pauses, looking both ways. The night person is way down to the left, headphones on, staring at her laptop. Charlotte creeps to the right and pulls me with her, toward the exit at the other end of the hall. As we near it, she puts a finger to her lips.

“I don’t want to get in trouble,” I whisper as low as possible.

“Shut up,” she says. “It’s fine. I’ve done it before.”

At the end of the hall, she pushes gently on the door until it gives and only opens it the merest amount, just enough for us to slip through. When I’m out, she holds it carefully until it latches back into place with a soft click.

My heart kind of spikes when I hear that click. Can we even get back in? Don’t these doors lock behind you at night? There must be some sort of alarm—

Charlotte looks at me. “I know what you’re thinking. I’ll just say we couldn’t sleep and went to the Star Pit and forgot to tell whatever-her-name-is in there. The new one. Do you even remember her name?”

She giggles.

I think a minute. “Lisa. Her name is Lisa. But what about bed check? What if they do a bed check?”

She shrugs. “Same story. Plus, that’s not for a few hours yet. And that one, that Lisa. I’ve been watching her. She’s been forgetting bed checks lately. I think she forgot about Gideon. Just follow me.”

She skirts around the edge of the dorm building and heads toward the Star Pit, which relieves me, because if we do get in trouble, sure, we can say we went there. It shouldn’t be too bad. I mean, I only have two days left. They can’t kick me out for sitting outside and looking at the stars and talking. I made it through Fire. I’vemadeit.

But Charlotte turns right, veering away from the path to the Star Pit, toward the goat and chicken pen.

My stomach is in knots. I stop walking.

“Charlotte,” I whisper. “I don’t like this.”

She ignores me.

It’s really cold out here. I should have put on my mittens and hat.

I run after her.

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She opens the latch to the goat pen and I follow her, stepping carefully so I don’t walk in shit, though I realize that’s probably impossible. Charlotte takes my hand, pulling me forward across their enclosure, into the area where the chickens are nestled in their boxes, plump and sleeping. Their heat lamps are on. It’s warmer in here.

Charlotte leads me back to where the feed buckets and supplies are.

I rub my cold hands together.

Charlotte is fiddling with the padlock to the door where the Feed Dude stacks the bags of feed and bundles of hay and grass.

She looks back at me, her eyes shining. “Easy-peasy.”

She’s holding up a paper clip. She slips it into her pocket, pulls open the door, and disappears inside.

This is not good. I just got out of Seg.

“I’m going to go back,” I whisper. “I’ll just tell them the Star Pit thing and—”

Charlotte emerges from the darkness of the supply room, grinning. She opens her jacket.

In the inside pocket on the left side, the top of a bottle peeks out.

The goats stir in their beds, bleat softly.

“No,” I say. “No, Charlotte.”

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