Page 118 of Wicked Games

But now… more kids.

Cindy mentioned it the other day at dinner. Two girls were on their way from upstate New York. A ten and fourteen-year-old. She pointed her fork in my direction, making me promise to be good. Kind. To show them the ropes.

We had chores and a curfew, which wasn’t just for out of the home. If we weren’t in our bedrooms by nine, there was a promise to remove our door. I saidwe, but really, it was just me for a few weeks. They were certified respite housing, too, but no one came through while I was adjusting to their household.

I saw a therapist once a week, talking about the issues I had. I’d been carrying around arunawaylabel for about a year, and it hung heavy every time Ms. McCaw spoke it into existence. She didn’t get it, though. I had to get out of that house.

Not this one, though. Threat of bedroom door removal or no, they were nice.

“Margo!” Cindy called.

I jumped up and ran down the stairs, pausing at the bottom. I put my hands behind my back and picked at my fingernails where she couldn’t see.

“This is Claire and Hanna,” she introduced. “How about you show them to their room? The one connected to yours.” She smiled at me. To the case worker, she said, “As we showed the woman who did the home inspection, we have a jack-and-jill bathroom that the girls will use.”

She left out that they just removed the locks on the outside of the doors.

“I can show you, if you’d like.”

“Not necessary,” the case worker said. “You know the drill. Girls? Call me if you need anything.”

“Sure,” the older one said.

I didn’t know if she was Claire or Hanna. She grabbed her sister’s hand.

With wooden legs, I led them up the stairs. Once we were out of earshot, I whispered, “I’m Margo.”

“Claire,” the older one answered. “And this is Hanna.”

“Margo is an old lady name,” Hanna blurted out.

It broke the tension I didn’t realize was forming.

Claire and I grinned down at Hanna.

“Yeah,” I said simply. It wasn’t worth arguing. “This is your room.”

Bunk beds in the corner, pink curtains covering the window. It was definitely meant to be a room for girls. Claire and Hanna wandered in, dropping their bags by the beds. They exchanged unspoken words.

Hanna went to the window while Claire turned toward me.

“You get your own room?”

I shrugged. “We share a bathroom. My room’s on the other side.”

She appraised me, then stomped through the bathroom and into my room. I followed her. She stopped dead, threw back her shoulders, and turned to me. “Switch with me.”

I regarded her.Did I seem like a pushover?Too many kids had tried to force me out of things that were mine. I rubbed my wrist, where my bracelet used to sit. I lost that a few homes back and still felt the ache of its absence.

“No,” I said, inching past her. It wasmyroom, the first one I’d ever had of my own. And I was not about to let some skinny kid walk into my home—and all over me.

I tried not to flinch at my line of thoughts. Did I really just call this place home? Even in my own head, it was alien.

“No?” Claire echoed. Her lips pushed down. “B-but why?—”

“Because I was here first,” I snapped. “You don’t get everything your way.”

Her chin wobbled, and she stared at me. Her eyes filled with tears.

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