Or else what? She’d have to eat broth for a month? Did she care what he punished her with? She thought of isolation then, and a small shiver crept up her spine; she did care. She was afraid—especially for her mother.

Maybe that was why she didn’t pick up the bat—she couldn’t, she was clutched in anxiety’s grip, her heart racing so quickly it felt like it was going to rap right out of her chest—ra ta ta ta. Taured’s hands circled her wrists, gently at first, and then his grip bit down harder and harder until she wanted to scream out for him to stop. Before she could open her mouth, he yanked her hands away from her face. She could smell his breath, the soap he’d used to wash himself that morning. His face was suddenly so peaceful, and she hesitated, thinking that maybe he wasn’t mad at her, but then she looked into his eyes and the pupils almost felt like they were reaching for her. She tried to look over his shoulder to find her mother, though she knew Lorraine wasn’t there. The silence alarmed her. Everyone was watching to see how this would play out.

“Pick up the bat,” he said again, this time so close to her face his spittle landed on her cheek. She tried not to have a reaction, because that’s what he fed on. Keeping her face stony, she bent to retrieve the bat from the ground. Her fingers scraped across the dirt, and then she was upright with the bat in her hands. The grains of sand steadied her grip, soaking up the damp on her palms. Taured stepped back and Summer took her position, her back as straight as the endless Nevada horizon. The strain of holding back her tears was stinging her nose.

Taured delivered one curt nod to Skye, who looked to Summer like he couldn’t wait to do it again. The next time the ball hit her in the stomach. The third time, it broke her nose.

There was blood; Summer wasn’t sure where it was all coming from, but when she touched her face, her hands came away dripping.

“Taured, she needs to see a doctor, a real doctor.” Her mother’s voice was pleading and urgent.

“Is our doctor not good enough for you, Lorraine? Is there a reason you’re so eager to leave here?”

Summer was barely able to see through the pain. His voice was loud, agitated. They were inside the cafeteria; she recognized the lights on the ceiling. Someone had propped her in a chair and her mother was holding a towel to Summer’s nose.