“I am not a Gloria.” A grown man’s raspy voice. I couldn’t see him. “And I am, am, urh, not a Telly.”

Pee spilled down my leg, a burst of warmth. I shook my head. Fast. I wanted to run, but outside the circle of light was thick tar. I pressed my back into the tree. The ripples of bark cut into my shoulder blades.

Then he flashed the light on the sign above my head.

“But you’re a thief.” He mumbled something, then said, “Whoever created your signage has difficulty with, urh, proper letter arrangement.”

I clamped a hand over my gaping mouth, teeth stabbing my palm. I sucked air through my fingers.

The voice continued speaking in a flat, mechanical way. “Juvenile delinquent in the system. Once he’s in, it’s very, very, urh, difficult to get out.” The flashlight moved over my jeans and sweatshirt. “What sort of offender?”

A mousy squeak popped from behind my fingers. He aimed the light directly in my eyes. I tried to twist away

“What did you steal?” Louder this time.

I lowered my hand. “Chocolate.”

“Petty theft. Confession.”

“Just from my teacher.”

“Just from my teacher. Urh. Doesn’t matter.” He kept grunting as he spoke, as though he had to force his words over a hurdle.

“Were you influenced? Coerced? Workers find all kinds of ways in. Through your electricity.” The sound of nails scraping bristles. Was there a wolf there, too? Crouched next to him?

“I—I don’t know.” What did he mean, workers? How were they finding their way in? I wanted to cry.

He started grumbling. “She wants to change your sign to HUNGRY, but I have no markers.” There was a woman with him? “But she’s, urh, a lenient judge. I have a candy bar, though. Here somewhere.” A thump then, and he dropped his flashlight. The glare crossed his bearded face and I jumped. Dark shiny eyes. Stained skin. Scraggly curls were growing down over his ears, his face. Metal balls were caught in his hair and beard. He was patting the pockets of an oversized coat.

“Take this,” he said.

I heard paper ripping and a sweet smell threaded toward me. Before I even thought, my fingers reached for it. Could’ve been poison, but I chewed it down.

He picked up the flashlight. Angled the beam away from my face just as a warm, wet sensation moved over my hand. I yelled out, and then realized it was a dog’s tongue.

“Girl,” the man said, and he laughed. “Get back here.”

“It’s okay,” I whispered. My mouth was still full of sugar and my heart had slowed. Strangely, I didn’t feel so afraid anymore. If this man was going to stab me or strangle me or shoot me in the head, he’d probably have done it already. Not given me chocolate.