It’s not like it was the first time I’d felt self-conscious, but I’d figured out how to deal with it in the Bad Place. On Swan, I didn’t know how to be. Because it’s not like when you’re shopping and the store detective follows you around the whole time, so you stay there twice as long, and stop and duck under racks and displays, put a pair of sunglasses on your head and make for the exit and then “remember” at the last minute and put them back. You can tease a store detective who gets on your case because you have as much right to be there as anyone. But being seventeen on Swan, I really wasn’t supposed to exist; I was a constant reminder of the kind of person the Bad Place prefers—my blank-screen forehead, absence of expression lines, my lack of real knowledge or expertise in anything, really, a stupidity the mainlanders gobble up like baby fat. So I ignored their stares and felt sorry because I was kind of ruining everything. But I thought it would only be a few weeks, a month, two at the most. I only asked Lolly once, and she said they’d be back for me soon. Not as long as this.

By the time I got to Rose’s place my toes felt solid and they hurt in this way where I couldn’t be sure whether they’d just snapped off. I think I was grimacing when the chimes above her door jingled as I walked in. Rose was up a stepladder stocking a high shelf; she came down, not quickly but lightly, like a strange bird, grabbed my hand, and gave it a massive shake that almost popped my shoulder out of joint. She didn’t wait for me to tell her who I was. It’s not like I needed to, but I’d always assumed that old people liked formality. Not that one, not Rose. She pointed me toward the freezer where Lolly usually shopped, climbed back up the stepladder, and got back to what she’d been doing. I said maybe my grandmother would like something different, that I was actually pretty good in the kitchen. Rose said good luck in kind of a grumble. I picked up some peppers and broccoli, a box of quinoa, and two cans of salmon.

“You better put on more layers, Small-fry.”

I found myself grinning. It felt odd. Then I realized that no one had spoken to me for days. Not since my parents left, or when it was Lolly asking me if I needed anything. Mostly she left notes.