(Hazel’s POV)
That night, I didn’t sleep.
The cake Rachelle brought was still sitting on my windowsill, getting all stale and sticky. I didn’t even take a bite. I just looked at it, trying to decide if it smelled weird. It didn’t. But it still made my stomach feel funny.
Not the cake.
Her.
I curled under my blanket and hugged Bramble, my stuffed bear. I told Mom I was too big for him now, but I wasn’t ready to let him go. Bramble didn’t judge me when I was scared, or when I had to think real hard like tonight. He just stayed.
“She’s not like the others,” I whispered to him.
He didn’t answer, but I pretended he was listening.
Rachelle’s eyes were too shiny when she smiled. Not in a nice way, like Mom’s when we do something good. No, it was the kind of shiny that hides sharp things.
