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“Yes, ma’am.”

Sadie said, completely straight-faced, “We were discussing the structural flaws in student gossip networks.”

Vale looked at her.

Sadie looked back. “Teenagers are so ridiculous.”

“You’re a teenager,” Vale pointed out reasonably.

“I’m the worst one.”

I closed my eyes briefly.

Ms. Vale’s attention returned to me. “Go.”

I blinked.

She started past us, then stopped.

“If Mr. Daugherty asks, tell him I held you.”

I stared at her. “Okay,” I said slowly. “Thanks.”

She was a notorious hard-ass, but she did this with me sometimes. Tiny exceptions. Passes I hadn’t earned. Not enough to call favoritism unless you were paying attention. I was.

“We’ll hurry,” I added.

“Good choice,” she said, sounding unconcerned about it. She kept walking.

Sadie watched her go. “She likes you.”

“Yeah,” I said. “I don’t know why.”

Except I did. Or thought I did.

Sometimes people looked at me and still saw the nine-year-old girl who had been taken. They’d heard the rumors about the pitiful, emaciated, abused, bloody, terrified, catatonic child that had come back.

They got softer. More patient. As though whatever had happened to her had bought me a lifetime supply of grace.

I never knew how to feel about that. I felt sorry for that little girl too.

Sadie bumped my arm lightly.

Not enough to startle me. Just enough.

“Come on, basket case,” she said.

I looked at her.

She smiled. “That one I’m allowed to say.”

“Keep walking, crazy.”

We hurried to class.

Chief was waiting near my locker when I came around the corner after last period.

Alone. That stopped me.