Mary’s head whipped to Rose at the relay, teeth still bared. Her distraught frown only deepened.

“No, it’s not,” Mary bit back. “That they return is!”

She plastered back to the window, nose practically touching the glass.

Lory chewed her nail, tasting salt. She hovered above her seat rather than sitting down, perpetually restless. Did Anne need any more help?

Alice seemed to have it under control. She had a bright future ahead of her.

“I can,” Lory said, already heading toward the door.

She felt less and less like she fit in with the others. And the less she fit, the harder it was for little things to matter. The little things had already stopped, and started to roll into bigger things.

Mum said that she would grow out of her willfulness … and she had just felt the gap widen even more.