“Your titties are so small, you hardly need this,” she said. “But wear it anyway. You have to stay safe. We’re not going to use our real names—I don’t want anyone knowing who we are.”

“Why?”

Gina slapped her, hard enough Pin’s eyes sparked. “You know why! If anyone asks, your name’s Maffucci. Not Onofria: Maffucci.”

Pin turned so her mother wouldn’t see her tears. “What about yours?”

“Maffucci, the same as yours. Of course it will be the same. I’m still your mother.” She pulled Pin close and embraced her for a heartbeat, Gina’s breath scented with Sen-Sen and schnapps, then quickly pushed her away. “In the fall it will be different. Till then, you need to stay safe.”

Safe? Pin bit her lip to keep from arguing with her. No one was ever, ever safe.

Chapter 7

Chapter 7

PIN CAUGHT THE streetcar to Uptown, clutching her cap as she pushed her way past the straphangers to poke her head out a window in the back. She closed her eyes and pretended she was by the lake. She’d been there only once, the summer before her younger sister, Abriana, disappeared. The boys from Riverview went sometimes, but she couldn’t take the risk. It was hard enough to keep her shirt on when everyone else peeled theirs off in the heat to go swimming, and to feign being pee-shy when they urinated in the river.

She drew her head in as the streetcar’s bell jangled, signaling her stop. Its wheels threw up sparks as it screeched around a corner and slowed. She pushed her way to the door, jumped off, and hurried across the intersection, dodging an automobile.

Essanay Studios took up a whole city block, its name above the entrance with its distinctive logo, the profile of an Indian chief wearing an eagle headdress. Outside, the building looked like a factory. Inside, the heavy air smelled of drugstore perfume and cigarette smoke, cleaning fluid, greasepaint, and a peculiar, sweet odor that came from the long spools of motion-picture film. Sometimes she heard hysterical laughter or sobs in here, or a dog barking. Once a man had raced past her, stark naked except for a towel clutched to his privates. Another time she’d ducked into a closet as a dozen policemen strode down the hall, only to realize they were in costume.

She halted when she reached a row of doors. She pushed open the one that bore a sign with the names GLORY and VALERIE on it, revealing two girls in shimmies. They stood side by side, perusing a clothing rack.

“Hi, Glory.”