The man decided to send Jenna to a group home in another town.

It was a good thing that ninth graders couldn’t die of a heart attack, because Nola was sure she would get one, and Jenna would be left all alone at this scary caseworker’s mercy. “Don’t separate us!” Nola begged of him. So much for her opening her mouth. Had she forgotten that things could only get worse, never better? “Jenna needs me. Isn’t there a law about keeping siblings together?”

“Si. A law that says every child needs proper education. Your sister needs a structured environment in order to learn.”

“Give her time to adjust to school. She doesn’t have a mother and a father. It’s really tough on her. I’ll help Miss Helga more. I’ll drop Drama Club. I’ll only leave Jenna when I go to the city once a week.”

He gave Nola one more year. Mini-Nazi said Jenna should have been put up for adoption years before, right after her accident. Now it was too late; no one would want to deal with her.

Every day Nola came straight home from school. She taught Jenna to tie her shoelaces, count to one hundred, and play on the toy xylophone, the only musical instrument Miss Helga allowed, because it wasn’t too noisy. But Nola couldn’t teach Jenna to play with other children. She couldn’t teach other children to have patience with Jenna.

Sometimes she would bring Jenna into her bed, feel her breath on her cheek as she contoured her body around Jenna's warmth and anticipated each of her turns as if they were one body. Nola imagined that there was a hollow space inside her, full of muck. Sticking to her schedule for the next two years made it less perceptible. Singing was freedom, like the feeling in her cave, except that she learned about muscles she hadn’t known existed in her diaphragm, throat and mouth. Her Russian voice teacher sometimes made her practice her voice while lying down and projecting onto the ceiling. And in ballet class she learned how to control her body from within and then move on different planes in the air around her. Singing and dancing defined her. Otherwise, all that was left would be the name “orphan.” When she danced and sang, she felt enveloped by affection that was strangely more inside than outside. Her parents were surely watching and loving her.