Page 173 of The Glass Girl

“You live here?” I ask, wiping my mouth frantically. I spit again.

“Yeah,” she says. “Over there. What is going on? Are you sick?”

“I…”

She sniffs the air around me.

“Oh,” she says. “Oh.”

“I didn’t…I thought we were going to a movie. Me and Josh.”

“Josh?” She wrinkles her forehead. “Does he go to school with us?”

“He’s from rehab.”

“Are you…How much did you have?”

She puts her arm through mine and starts walking me toward her house.

“I don’t…I can’t really think right now. Two sips of beer. I swallowed them. And then…there was a third, but…”

“But what?”

“I spit it out. On him.”

She stops walking. “Wait, you spit your drink out on him?”

“I had to get it out.”

She giggles.

“It’s not funny, Dawn. I have to get it out. I have to get the rest out. It can’t stay in me, don’t you understand?”

I whip over, facing the ground and shove my fingers down my throat, over and over.

Up comes some frothy liquid and leftover dinner in chunks. I choke a little.

Then I start crying.

“I thought we were going to a movie,” I say softly.

Dawn pats my back. I’m still bent over.

“Let’s go inside,” she says. “It’s cold out here, and we should probably call your mom.”

—

Two women are inside her house sitting on a couch and watching television. One of them is knitting something long and gray. They both look up.

“Oh, hello,” one says. “And who are you?”

“Mom, this is my friend, Bella. The one I told you about.”

The women look at each other. I can tell they’veheardabout me, but they don’t look unkind.

“Bella, these are my moms, Sharon and Claire.”

“Hi,” I say.

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