Page 95 of The Glass Girl

“Sometimes?”

“You either are or you aren’t,” Charlotte presses. “Let me see.”

She gets out of bed and starts walking toward Holly’s bed.

“No,” Holly whimpers.

“Let her alone, Char, get back into bed. Jesus, you’re so invasive.” Gideon’s voice is firm.

Charlotte turns around and pads back to her bed, stuffs herself under her blanket.

I’m processing them. Charlotte is the instigator; I’ll have to be careful. Gideon seems like the leader. She’s the one with all the books under her bed. Charlotte listened to her, so obviously she respects her.

A loud snore snakes up from Brandy’s bed.

“Looks like it’s your turn, then, Bella,” Gideon says.

“Fifteen,” I say, staring at the ceiling. Why aren’t wren, sparrow, roadrunner, quail here, too? There should be paintings on all the ceilings. All the rooms should have bird Sistine Chapels in this place. “First time.”

“Oh my god, you’re ababy,” Charlotte exclaims. “Innocent, unsullied, and somewhat pure.”

“She’s not the youngest ever, though,” Gideon says, lying back down and crossing her arms behind her head. “Phil told me they had a twelve-year-old once. But he got kicked out.”

“What for?” I ask.

Gideon’s voice is sleepy now. “He kicked a goat. They tell you you can’t do a lot of stuff here to frighten you so you stay in line. I’ve seen some stuff. But the one thing you truly cannot do is hurt the animals.”

Charlotte giggles. “Or fuck in the bathrooms.”

Gideon snorts. “Right. Emmanuel and Shelly. That was a trip.”

“They’re still together, you know,” Charlotte says. “She texted me. She goes to St. Gregory and he’s at Marana, but they make it work. True love, born from addiction, pain, and fucking on a sink top.”

“Well,” I say. “I don’t think I’ll be doingthat.”

Gideon and Charlotte snicker.

“You never know,” Gideon says. “I met my first girlfriend at my last place.”

Charlotte makes a sound like she’s eating a piece of delicious candy.

Gideon shifts in her bed, her voice becoming muffled. “Butone thing you never do here is tell. If you see something, don’t say something. Walk away. Vault it.”

I roll over onto my side. Charlotte is on her side, too, facing me, her eyes bright. She’s still in her pigtails from gym.

“That’s right,” she whispers. “Never snitch.”

Day Five

When the banging onthe door happens, it’s still gray outside our dorm window. I blearily look around. Gideon is already up, lacing her sneakers. Charlotte rubs her eyes.

“God, I hate that guy,” Charlotte says. “He’s like a combination of every awful jock and PE teacher at my old school. All testosterone and slogans.” She swings her legs over the side of her bed and reaches under it for her running clothes and water bottle. “Just give us a freaking minute, you monster!” she yells at the door. The banging stops, then starts up again somewhere down the hall.

I get up and shake Brandy awake.

“Oh, good lord, no, not again. I was hoping it was all a bad dream,” she moans.

Gideon stands up, stretching, cracking her neck.

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