Burn Read Free Page B

now wearing a pipe-cleaner necklace that someone must have made her in crafts. “We’re doing root beer floats with the movie,” she cajoled. “Are you sure you don’t want to join us?”
    Lona slung her bag over her shoulder. “Thanks, but I have stuff to do.”
    â€œStay!” Warren pleaded. He’d grabbed the edge of her coat; his fingers were stubby and sticky and brown with cake, and looking at them suddenly filled her with revulsion.
    Why did she keep coming here?
It made her uneasy that she couldn’t articulate it. She didn’t enjoy spending afternoons with a 170-lb toddler, reading the same books over and over again. The visits didn’t feel like virtuous acts; they were filled with irritation, not compassion. But she was still choosing them, again and again, even though Warren didn’t deserve them. Even though it meant lying to Fenn. Even though it would devastate him to find out.
    â€œLona?” From the tone of Rowena’s voice, she could tell it wasn’t the first time the nurse had called her name. “I asked if you wanted a root beer float for the road.”
    Lona shook her head and moved toward the door.
    â€œBring a friend next time,” Rowena suggested cheerfully. “It would be nice to see more young people here.”
    â€œI don’t have any friends who know I come here.”
    â€œTell them you can get community service credits for volunteering,” Rowena offered. “We’ve partnered with schools before.”
    â€œNo,” Lona said, because she’d phrased it wrong. What she should have said was,
If my friends knew I came here, they would no longer be my friends.

4
    A car was in the driveway at home, a blue station wagon Lona didn’t recognize. She hung her coat by the front door and sniffed the sleeve of her sweater. The hospital had its own odor, like lemons and stale bread. She wanted it off her.
    â€œHey, are you back?” Fenn called from somewhere in the house, but she couldn’t answer him smelling like hospital. It felt like reveling in her dishonesty. She ducked into the hallway bathroom, stripping off her sweater down to the short sleeves she’d worn underneath, scrubbing her face and arms until they were red.
    In the kitchen, Fenn poured coffee for a small, wiry woman with a long ponytail.
    â€œTalia!”
    It was funny – Lona used to think the ex-Monitor had a hard face, one that reminded her of a weather-worried stone. Six months later, the fine lines around her mouth looked like laugh lines, not frown. The clothing helped. As a Monitor for the Julian Path, Talia had worn regulation black; today she was dressed in a green pullover and jeans.
    â€œWhere did you end up?” Fenn eyed her, briefly, before pouring her a cup of coffee. “I thought you’d be back an hour ago.”
    â€œYou probably just missed us.” Talia slid the sugar to Lona. “Gabe and I were out doing errands all afternoon, but we were in the neighborhood so we decided to stop by and show you guys the new car.”
    Just missed them
? Oh. Right. Her stomach fluttered as her memory returned. That was the fake destination Lona had given Fenn: going to drop some papers off at Talia’s.
    â€œI should have called first,” she stammered. “When you weren’t home I went to the mall instead. Just wandered around, didn’t buy anything.” She thought she saw Talia look at her, out of the corner of her eye, but tried to ignore it. “Are we doing Tuesday dinner a day early?”
    Finally, Talia stopped looking at her and turned to Fenn. “If the chef says we’re invited. We might as well; we’re already here.”
    â€œIt’s just spaghetti. I’ll add more noodles.”
    The back door banged open and a small boy flew inside, a mess of knees and elbows. Behind him, Gamb’s arms extended like talons, swiping at the air. “RAAAWWR,”