Page 71 of The Glass Girl

I cap my Gatorade and set it on the floor. I lie back, rest my head on the pillow.

I fall asleep.

—

I’m rolling on the surface of the sea on my back, the waves pushing me up and down, water filling my mouth, and I try to reach up, grab the stars, pull myself out of the water, but I can’t get a grip on them. They’re slippery.

“Isabella.”

Where is that voice in the ocean? Help me.

“Isabella, wake up.”

I blink.

Fran is standing above me.

“It’s dinner. It’s time for dinner, Isabella.”

My mouth feels thick with sludge. My head is heavy.

“It’s Bella. Not hungry,” I mumble. “Just want to sleep.”

“Okay,” she says softly.

I pull the blanket up to my chin. The ibuprofen did nothing for my face. It throbs now, worse even than this morning. I hear the door close behind Fran.

I fall back into the ocean.

—

The nurse comes in later and nudges us until we wake up and takes our blood pressure and then we go back to sleep.

—

When I wake up again, the room is still dark. Slowly, I make out a lump on the bottom bunk across the room. It’s Brandy, snoring gently, the blue wool blanket pulled all the way up to her nose. The top bunk is empty. Our bags and suitcases are here now, lined up against the wall.

Where is Holly?

I go to the bathroom. Don’t look at my face in the mirror. There’s a lever on the wall by the toilet.Pull for Helpsays the square sign above it.

I stand by the window in our room. The sky is a shimmery purple-blue, studded with stars. You can see the stars in Tucson, too, but they always look better on the outskirts of thecity, away from the streetlights and buildings. I remember that from Tubac, from Agnes’s farm, sitting outside with Laurel by a crackling fire, a glass of something she called a Vesper in her hand.

I try it, just to see, but the window doesn’t open. I guess so nobody tries to escape from the room.

I get up and go out into the hallway. It’s quiet. There’s a light at the end, so I walk toward that.

A woman is behind the desk, watching a show on a laptop. I hear the strains of theGolden Girlstheme song before she notices me and pauses her show.

“Hello,” she says. “Can’t sleep? Are you Isabella or Brandy?”

“Bella. No one calls me Isabella.”

She nods. “Cool. Tell me what you need, Bella.”

“Where’s…where’s Holly? The other girl who was with us?”

“Holly’s been segregated. We have to wait until whatever she took is out of her system.”

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