Page 85 of The Glass Girl

Slower now, heart tired. Heart sleeping. Brain off.

Wren, sparrow, roadrunner, quail.

I don’t know how long we stay on the floor, all of us, saying the names of those birds, maybe it’s a few minutes, maybe an hour, but in time, I get so invested in the words, and in the ceiling story, that my body softens, and I can breathe, and then I am just tired, tired, tired.

Day Four

We are moving toGeneral.

Holly reappeared early this morning, after our Chuck run (and we remembered our water bottles this time), her eyes no longer glassy but with dark circles underneath. She clutched that black backpack to her chest. “They took my picture,” she says. “That was weird. Is that going to happen every day?”

They took ours, too, right after the run. They didn’t let us shower first. I leaned against the wall and didn’t even bother pushing my hair away from my face. This was photo number three. I still haven’t looked at them. I haven’t looked atmyself.Maybe if I never look at myself again, I’ll just…disappear.

“It’s a thing here,” Billy says.

“Weird,” she whispers. “Very weird.”

“Why are you whispering?” Brandy snaps.

“I don’t know,” Holly says. She laughs nervously.

“Was it worth it?” I ask.

“Was what worth it?” Holly says.

“Swallowing…whatever it is you had,” I say.

The smile she gives me is kind of scary, it’s so calm and perfect.

“Yes,” she says. “It was Oxy, and abso-fuckin’-lutely.”

“Well, did you save some for me?” Billy asks.

Holly shakes her head. “No, sorry.”

“Too bad,” Billy says. “I’m starting to get really fucking bored here.”

We’re standing in the activity room, our suitcases and bags around us, waiting. Someone will come get us soon and move us in with all the other kids, and I’m starting to feel anxious. Not like last night, but anxious nonetheless.

“God, I’m starving,” Billy says. “When are we going to eat?”

“In a little bit,” Tracy says, coming up behind us, zipping her parka. “You ready? Big day.”

“Whatever,” Brandy says. “I’m ready to justgo.Let’s get this shitshow on the road.”

Outside the Detox building, we walk along a dirt path by the goat and chicken pens. The goats bleat and nose around the fencing and the chickens scurry about. Other kids are inthe pens in blue hoodies, tossing out hay with gloved hands, scattering feed from silver buckets.

“You’ll be doing that soon,” Tracy says. “We take care of each other here, including the animals.”

“It smells like shit.” Brandy slips a little on a muddy patch. Billy catches her arm.

“Because thereisshit,” Holly mutters behind me. “This is so weird.”

Ricci would love this. Fresh air, animals. My heart aches a little, thinking about that. About her, and what she must be feeling right now.

For thirty days, she’s an only child.

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