But I can save Lucy. I will save Lucy.
My eyelids grow heavier and heavier until I succumb to slumber.
We’re wokenby a boy shouting at the top of his lungs, “There’s a girl in the boys’ dorm. There’s a girl in the boys’ dorm!”
Lucy sits up with a gasp, pulling herself out of my embrace. The room is bright with morning light. The boy in the bed across from me is pointing at Lucy like she’s a wild animal who has crept inside.
She scrambles out of my bed and hurries toward the door, but not before I see the fear on her face that they might separate us because of this.
“Shut your mouth, or I’ll shut it for you,” I snap at the boy.
The boy quiets his shouting, but he says in a bossy voice, “You can’t sleep in the same bed as your sister.”
Like there’s anything wrong with sharing a bed with your sister when neither of us can sleep. After what we’ve been through, we need each other. “You mind your damn business.”
“Pervert,” he flings at me. “Weirdo.”
I head for the bathroom, muttering, “You’ve never had a sister before, and it shows.”
But his words stick in my mind as I wash up and get dressed. Pervert. Weirdo. Is there something wrong with how much I need Lucy and how much I think about her?
No. It’s not like that. She’s my sister, and I’m just protecting her.
I head for breakfast. The institutional off-white paint on the walls has yellowed with age, the color making me feel sick. None of the children here are happy, and unhappy kids are noisy, disobedient, violent kids. Every mealtime is grating, but breakfast this morning is particularly chaotic. Forty kids squabbling over packets of cornflakes and cartons of milk,hitting each other, shouting, and crying. There’s no sign of anyone who works here.
Lucy is sitting in a corner pressed into her chair, too scared to go up and get herself something to eat. My chest tightens seeing her like that, small and afraid and hungry.
I fetch us some cereal and even manage to grab a small bowl of cut fruit.
I place the food in front of Lucy, and I sit down to eat my breakfast. But Lucy doesn’t touch her spoon. She’s staring at the commotion around us with big, scared eyes, her breathing too fast.
I can’t stand it. I scoop her out of her chair and settle her into my lap, turning her away from the other kids and shielding her with my body. At least here, she doesn’t have to see them. She doesn’t have to be afraid.
“Look at you,” I scold her gently, finger combing the tangles from her hair. “You’re like a woolly sheep. Mary’s little lamb.”
She smiles just a little and puts her arms around my neck.
“I know you like strawberries.” I pick one up and hold it to her lips.
She takes a small bite and chews it, and I smile at her. “Good?”
Lucy nods.
It takes me nearly half an hour of coaxing her and talking to her about different things, but she finally eats a small breakfast. All the while, I’m thinking about that bruise on her ribs. About Mason or Mark or whatever his name is, and how much I want to make him pay for hurting her.
“After we finish eating, should we go outside for a little while? Or maybe you can read to me like you did yesterday.”
Lucy swallows her mouthful and stares silently at me. There’s something in her eyes. A question she’s afraid to ask.
The smile fades from my lips. “What’s wrong?”
“Are you only being nice to me because you miss your sister?”
The question hits me like a punch. I look around, afraid someone might have overheard her. I take hold of her hands, and whisper urgently, “No. God no, Lucy. Please don’t think that. I’m looking out for you because I want to. I don’t want you to be alone.” I stare at our joined hands, and then confess, “I don’t want to be alone either.”
When I look at Lucy, I don’t see Lily. They’re nothing alike. Lily was innocent, naïve, trusting. Lucy has already learned that the world is cruel. She’s guarded and wary and so strong. I need that strength. I need her.
“I’m sorry about Lily,” she whispers.
