Page 159 of The Glass Girl

“I got it,” she answers. She takes the ice pack off her head and places it in her lap. Her hair is much longer now and a different style, wavy and layered. It looks nice. “Are you okay? After that place?”

“No,” I answer. “But I’m trying.”

“Good,” she says softly, looking at me. “Because I found something. For our trip.”

“I didn’t think…” My voice shakes. “I didn’t think you’d still want me to go.”

“Don’t be stupid,” she says. “Who would I rather go with? Anyway, it’s a corn maze. In Iowa. We should look at our map soon.”

“A corn maze,” I say. “I wouldn’t mind getting lost in some corn.”

“Probably no better place,” she says. “We can literally beChildren of the Corn.”

We smile at each other, and then Amber sighs, pressing the ice pack against my knuckles.

“I have never been in trouble before in my life,” she says. “And now I’m probably going to get kicked out of school.”

“I know,” I say. “And what a way to go, am I right? With a bang and a whimper.”

She starts to laugh, but it’s laugh-crying, so it’s not really funny, but is, at the same time.

Cherie and Dawn start giggling.

And then we are all laughing together, stupidly, until Vice Principal Stickler comes in, and then we immediately stop.

She leans her hip against her desk and crosses her arms, that stance adults adopt when you’re in trouble and they expect you to start talking first, not them.

“It’s my fault,” I say immediately. “It was because of me. If you kick anyone out, it should be me. They were just sticking up for me.”

She sighs. “Let me see your hand.”

I hold up my right hand, the knuckles red and skinned.

“Miss Leahey,” Ms. Stickler says, “where on earth did you learn to throw a punch like that?”

“Rehab, Ms. Stickler. I learned to fight in rehab. On a girl named Charlotte.”

—

My mom is waiting outside Ms. Stickler’s office. I brace myself.

“Well,” she says.

“Well,” I say.

“That was not quite the first day back I was hoping for.” She stands up.

“Me neither, to be honest.” I swallow hard. “How mad are you?”

She cups my cheek with her hand. It feels nice.

“Bella,” she says, “let’s just get you home.”

Family Can Be a Challenge.

My dad opens hisfront door and sweeps me into a big hug. Ricci wedges herself between us to get some, too.

“I missed you,” he says, kissing the top of my head. “I hear you got into a little scrape at school yesterday.”

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