“You look like you’re trying out for the swim team. Don’t you want to get a tan? You’ll have a fish belly if you wear any short tops.”

“I am going out for the swim team,” Leah said. “And I ride horses all day. Nobody can see if I have a tan belly or not.”

She panicked a little at the thought of going back to school and starting over with new kids and new teachers. At her old school, she had figured out how to get changed in the locker room without anyone being able to see. Everyone there had known her forever and didn’t pay attention. As a new kid in a new school, she imagined everyone would be staring at her all the time, wondering about her.

Why was she this way? Why did she do that? Isn’t she that girl with the kidnapped sister? She must be weird. Her whole family must be weird. Why else would something like that happen? Didn’t her father kill himself? He must have done something to her sister . . .

It would be like it was happening for the first time all over again.

Leah felt the pressure within her building again, like she was a balloon already too full of air. A part of her wanted to be able to tell someone about it, but she didn’t dare tell Wendy, and she didn’t dare tell her mom. Anne Leone had been a crime victim. She helped victims and troubled kids for a living. But what would happen if Leah told her about the things she felt and the things she did to make those feelings stop? Anne would for sure tell Leah’s mother. She couldn’t have that.

Knowing there was someone who might be able to help her but she didn’t dare go to was like being a starving person at a banquet but not being able to eat.

The pressure built some more.

Leah fought against the need to cry even as she slipped a hand inside her breeches and found the Band-Aid that covered the wound. She scratched it aside and raked her fingernails over the half-healed cut, the pain sharp and sweet.

Then came the relief.

Then came the shame.

Then came the tears.

Leah pressed a hand over her mouth and squeezed her eyes shut, willing them to stop. Bacchus turned his head to look at her with a sad curiosity in his big dark eyes. Leah reached out and stroked trembling fingers down the slope of his Roman nose.

Outside, the delivery truck from the feed store rumbled into the stable yard, kicking up a cloud of dust.

Leah stepped away from her horse and wiped her eyes on the tail of her black polo shirt.

A man’s voice spoke just outside the stall, making her jump.

“Excuse me? Miss? Can you help me?”