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bunk with Simone. Not sure …
Simone? she calls. Come meet Summer.
A door (bathroom?) opens
somewhere and a wraith—
pale as death—appears suddenly,
followed by two darker-skinned
girls, probably sisters. Real sisters,
part of my new fake family.
Good, you’re all here, says Tanya.
Summer, this is Simone, Eliana,
and Rosa. Get acquainted.
SHE GOES TO SAY GOOD-BYE
To Shreeveport. I maintain silence,
cross the room in three steps, claim my bed.
I guess I should unpack my clothes.
Having been on both sides of the “get
to know your new foster sister” dynamic,
I choose the respectful route and turn
to Simone. “Are there empty drawers?”
All three girls drill me with their eyes,
and the air, hanging thick with unasked
questions, prods my temper. “What?”
Nothing, says Ghost-girl. Simone.
Lainie had the right side of the dresser.
Her voice is wimpy, and I’m not surprised.
She sounds like she looks—washed out.
I suspect the answer, but ask anyway, if only
to break the insufferable silence. “Who’s Lainie?”
Young Rosa (maybe ten?) rushes
to respond, She used to live here,
