Page 139 of The Glass Girl

“We should go,” I whisper. “That’s enough.”

I take a few more sips.

It’s hitting me a little hard. I waver, even though I’m sitting down.

“Your tolerance is shot,” Charlotte says, pulling on the sleeve of my parka back toward her. “You’ll have to build that back up when you’re on the outside.”

Things are getting a little fuzzy. Her voice sounds like we’re underwater.

“Where did you even get this?” I ask, my words blurry in my mouth.

She laughs.

Charlotte made friends with the Feed Dude. That’s why she always wanted to be the one to help him unload. That’s why it was always Charlotte’s job. A little flirting here, an exchange of money there, why should he even care? It’s just a job to him. He doesn’t care about anyone here. People need money. What’s it to him? He puts a little smiley face on the bag that has the bottle. She’s been picking locks for years. Her parents locked things up to keep her safe and she figured out how to unlock them with a few videos on YouTube, to keep herself the wayshe needed to be. She’s been doing this off and on for weeks now. She isn’t stupid. She figured out the pattern of urine tests and blood tests. She took her chances. Rolled the dice, so to speak.

“I’m getting out,” she says after a while. “I have to prep myself. This is just a little last celebration, and I’m spending it with you. Isn’t that cool? When you get out, we’ll hang out. I’ll take you to the mall. We’ll use my dad’s credit card. He loves that. Let’s go to Claire’s!”

She fingers her naked earlobes wistfully.

“I can’t wait to be me again,” she murmurs.

“God, I hate this world,” she says.

“Take it easy.” She giggles. “Don’t overdo it. I don’t want you to break your face again.”

—

The chickens look so pert and fluffy in their boxes. The pen smells musty. What time is it? That night person surely must be doing bed checks by now.

But all those worries are muted in me, now.

I have missed this.

—

I try to stand up, because I have to pee, but my body is jelly.

—

Charlotte is standing above me, looking at me intently.

She snaps her fingers.

“Hey,” she says. “Bella. Hey.”

I look at her. Both of her. The two Charlottes flitting in front of me. I blink.

“I’m going outside to pee. I’ll be right back, okay?”

She picks up the bottle. I reach for it.

“Uh-uh,” she says. “Don’t worry. I’ll be back. Sit tight.”

“Charlotte,” I call, my voice thin and soft. “Charlotte, are you really going to set fire to your dad’s car when you get out? I don’t think he’ll let us use his credit card at Claire’s if you do.”

She turns back to me and winks.

“That’s for me to know and you to find out.”

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