![]() ![]() Her sister sat at the desk with one foot propped on an open drawer. ![]() Beatrice had hung posters on the sloping ceiling, and they floated colorfully overhead, like the inside flaps of a circus tent. After a minute, she rolled on her side and said to her sister, "You got the best room."īeatrice's room in the new house was full of angles and alcoves, like Hero's, but it was bigger, with more windows. She closed her eyes and made her mind completely blank, as heavy and blank as the summer day. She could hear the distant shouts of a tag game down the street. The air was thick with summer smells: lawn clippings and sun lotion and late-blooming roses. So instead, she rested her cheek against the soft cotton and breathed. If she thought about any of those things, she'd get that old, tight, panicky feeling-and what was the point? She wasn't thinking about stepping off the bus tomorrow into a sea of strangers. She wasn't thinking about their new house. Hero Netherfield stretched across the quilted bedspread in her sister's room, her feet drifting over the edge of the mattress. ![]()
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