Page 116

“I’m glad you’re here,” I say in her ear, quiet, just for us.

“Hey,” she says back. She’s stiff in my arms, but the stiffness eases out when I don’t relent in my squeezing. Tress melts a little, just like a Popsicle, once I’ve warmed it up a bit.

“Oops,” Maddie says from behind us. “I think I made a mess.”

“You can’t think you made a mess,” Brynn says. “You either did or you didn’t.”

“I made a mess, then,” Maddie says agreeably.

“I’ve got it,” Brynn says, hopping up. She slips past us, reaching out one hand to awkwardly clap Tress on the shoulder. “Hey, Tress,” she says casually.

“Hey,” Tress says back, stiffening again.

Still on the floor, Gretchen’s eyes narrow at Tress’s sleeping bag, still tucked under her arm. “Is this a sleepover? The invitation didn’t say it was a sleepover.”

Under my arm, Tress goes still as stone.

“I need somewhere to stay,” Tress says, at the same time that I say, “Of course it’s a sleepover!”

It’s definitely not a sleepover. Mom wouldn’t even consider it, in case I had a seizure. In case Maddie and Gretchen and Brynn see me pee my pants and twitch and roll on the floor like an insane person. A person who has something wrong with them. A person who no one will want to marry, because then their kids might have it, too.

Gretchen eyes me, sucking hard on her Popsicle. “If she’s staying over, then I’m staying over,” she finally says.

“Well, yeah!” I say, because like Mom said, we want to make sure everybody is having a good time. I’ll be sure to bring that up when I break the news to her.

“’Kay,” Gretchen says, reaching up to scratch her head again. “I’ll text my dad.”

Brynn comes back with wet paper towels and wipes down Maddie’s arm—which is dripping with red Popsicle water.

“Hey, we’re staying the night now,” she tells Brynn, who shakes her head.

“Can’t,” Brynn says. “I’ve got volleyball camp in the morning.”

“Oh,” Maddie says quietly, and I know she’s thinking the same thing I am. Without Brynn here to rein her in, Gretchen will go after Tress any chance she gets. And Maddie—I know—will follow the leader.

That just leaves me. I tighten my arm around Tress, pulling her against my side.

“I’m glad you’re here,” I say again.

Chapter 24

Tress

Sixth Grade

I stomp down hard on the shovel, accidentally cracking carrots as I do. But Zee won’t care. Zebras aren’t all that picky about their food. Not like how Gretchen Astor always asks the cafeteria lady to cut the crust off her sandwiches. The first time Cecil showed me how to dig carrots for the animals I asked if he was going to wash them first. He’d thumped me on the head with the bunch, dirt raining down on my hair.

“Probably do you a little good to eat some dirt, too,” he said.

In the paddock, Zee brays at me. He saw me come into the garden with the shovel, and he’s no dummy. It’s snack time. Goldie-Dog leaves my heels, trots over to Zee’s paddock, and slips between the slats, craning her neck so they can touch noses.

Goldie’s rear end is a mess of mats, mud, and probably some poop, too. Cecil won’t let her in the house, so my dog has had to settle for finding a spot in the barn. She made friends with Zee real quick, but Dee—the ostrich—didn’t like Goldie at all. Cecil wasn’t too happy about that; Zee and Dee came as a pair, and they share the same paddock. Having Goldie zip in and out was causing “hostilities,” according to Cecil, and if I wanted to keep my dog, she’d better learn her place.

Two months ago, I still had the nerve to plant my feet and stick my chin out. I’d told Cecil that I’d run away before I let him take my dog to the pound.

“Who said anything about the pound?” Cecil said, and pointed at the shotgun propped in the corner.

So Goldie had to learn her place, which meant I had to teach Dee that she wasn’t a threat. I guess that’s how I learned my place, too, out there with the animals. Just a week in the paddock and Zee was nudging my back, checking my pockets for treats. And while Dee and I weren’t exactly friends, the ostrich stopped flapping her wings at me and making herself big every time I climbed the fence. She’d only charged me the once, when my back was turned.