frowned. “Her boyfriend stuck up for you, for one thing,” she said. “That’s one strike.”
“That wasn’t my fault,” Izzy said.
“I know,” she said. “But the last girl Shannon saw as a threat to her and Ethan had to transfer to another school.”
“You’re not friends with her?”
Alex looked away for a fraction of a second, and just that small movement, that tiny delay when Alex averted her eyes, made Izzy wonder if she was telling the truth. Maybe Alex was a spy for the mean girls, sent to make friends so she could report back.
“We used to be really close,” Alex said. “But that changed a while ago.”
“What happened?” Izzy knew her question sounded nosy, but she didn’t care. She wasn’t going to let herself fall into a trap.
“Why don’t we get together later?” Alex said. “I can give you a ride home if you want. I’ve got a ’76 Beamer. It’s junk heap, but I bought it myself and it serves the purpose.”
Izzy dug her nails into the cover of her math book, uncertainty fluttering in her stomach. “I’m supposed to take the bus home,” she said. “My foster parents told me not to ride with anyone they don’t know.”
“Well, how about if I stop by later then?” Alex said. “I’ll introduce myself to your foster parents and maybe we can hang out.”
Izzy was just about to agree when Alex glanced down the hall, past Izzy. Alex’s face dropped. Then Shannon and her friends were standing beside them, followed by a strong cloud of hairspray and perfume. Shannon beamed at Alex, her eyes twinkling, barely able to contain her exciting news.
“You’re still coming tonight, right?” she said. “Dave’s parents left for Florida and his fridge is stocked with beer!”
Alex frowned, her forehead knitted. She started to answer, but then Shannon looked at Izzy, as if noticing her for the first time.
“Oh,” Shannon said. She glanced back at the other girls, then smiled at Izzy. “You can come too, if you want. I’ll introduce you to everyone!”
“I . . .” Izzy started.
“Don’t forget,” Shannon said to Alex. “You promised to bring some tequila!”
Before Alex could react, Shannon hurried down the hall, laughing with the other girls. Izzy looked at Alex, waiting for an explanation.
“She knows I’m telling you I can’t stand her,” Alex said. “She did that to make me look like a liar.”
“If you say so,” Izzy said. “I’ve got to get to class.” She brushed past Alex and started down the hall, thinking it was going to be a long year. “See you around.”
CHAPTER 4
C LARA
The Long Island Home for Nervous Invalids
New Year’s Day, 1930
Two and a half months after the fight with her parents, Clara stood at the narrow, six-paned window of her third-floor room in Norton Cottage, looking out over the main grounds of the Long Island Home for Nervous Invalids. It was early morning on New Year’s Day, gray clouds hanging low and ominous in the winter sky. It had been storming all night, a near blizzard, and everything was cloaked in white. The trees in the cedar grove drooped under the weight of wet snow, and the rushing water in the nearby creek was the color of tombstones. The groundskeeper was shoveling the sidewalks, his back hunched, his red hat bobbing up and down as he heaved the wet snow into higher and higher banks. A low, black truck plowed the wide driveway, its blades raising and lowering like the wings of a giant wasp, the rumble of the engine and the scrape of the plow vibrating through the thin window glass. The wind had finally stopped, but every few minutes the sky opened up again, releasing a slow flurry of thick flakes.
Blinking back tears, Clara wondered where she would be next year on New Year’s Day. She pictured herself living with Bruno, raising their child together, finally out from beneath her parents’ rule. But first, she had to get out of the Long Island Home. She had to convince Dr. Thorn that she was being
“That wasn’t my fault,” Izzy said.
“I know,” she said. “But the last girl Shannon saw as a threat to her and Ethan had to transfer to another school.”
“You’re not friends with her?”
Alex looked away for a fraction of a second, and just that small movement, that tiny delay when Alex averted her eyes, made Izzy wonder if she was telling the truth. Maybe Alex was a spy for the mean girls, sent to make friends so she could report back.
“We used to be really close,” Alex said. “But that changed a while ago.”
“What happened?” Izzy knew her question sounded nosy, but she didn’t care. She wasn’t going to let herself fall into a trap.
“Why don’t we get together later?” Alex said. “I can give you a ride home if you want. I’ve got a ’76 Beamer. It’s junk heap, but I bought it myself and it serves the purpose.”
Izzy dug her nails into the cover of her math book, uncertainty fluttering in her stomach. “I’m supposed to take the bus home,” she said. “My foster parents told me not to ride with anyone they don’t know.”
“Well, how about if I stop by later then?” Alex said. “I’ll introduce myself to your foster parents and maybe we can hang out.”
Izzy was just about to agree when Alex glanced down the hall, past Izzy. Alex’s face dropped. Then Shannon and her friends were standing beside them, followed by a strong cloud of hairspray and perfume. Shannon beamed at Alex, her eyes twinkling, barely able to contain her exciting news.
“You’re still coming tonight, right?” she said. “Dave’s parents left for Florida and his fridge is stocked with beer!”
Alex frowned, her forehead knitted. She started to answer, but then Shannon looked at Izzy, as if noticing her for the first time.
“Oh,” Shannon said. She glanced back at the other girls, then smiled at Izzy. “You can come too, if you want. I’ll introduce you to everyone!”
“I . . .” Izzy started.
“Don’t forget,” Shannon said to Alex. “You promised to bring some tequila!”
Before Alex could react, Shannon hurried down the hall, laughing with the other girls. Izzy looked at Alex, waiting for an explanation.
“She knows I’m telling you I can’t stand her,” Alex said. “She did that to make me look like a liar.”
“If you say so,” Izzy said. “I’ve got to get to class.” She brushed past Alex and started down the hall, thinking it was going to be a long year. “See you around.”
CHAPTER 4
C LARA
The Long Island Home for Nervous Invalids
New Year’s Day, 1930
Two and a half months after the fight with her parents, Clara stood at the narrow, six-paned window of her third-floor room in Norton Cottage, looking out over the main grounds of the Long Island Home for Nervous Invalids. It was early morning on New Year’s Day, gray clouds hanging low and ominous in the winter sky. It had been storming all night, a near blizzard, and everything was cloaked in white. The trees in the cedar grove drooped under the weight of wet snow, and the rushing water in the nearby creek was the color of tombstones. The groundskeeper was shoveling the sidewalks, his back hunched, his red hat bobbing up and down as he heaved the wet snow into higher and higher banks. A low, black truck plowed the wide driveway, its blades raising and lowering like the wings of a giant wasp, the rumble of the engine and the scrape of the plow vibrating through the thin window glass. The wind had finally stopped, but every few minutes the sky opened up again, releasing a slow flurry of thick flakes.
Blinking back tears, Clara wondered where she would be next year on New Year’s Day. She pictured herself living with Bruno, raising their child together, finally out from beneath her parents’ rule. But first, she had to get out of the Long Island Home. She had to convince Dr. Thorn that she was being
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