Hanna’s steps slowed. Such a struggle, when something as simple as going into a building made her heart pound and her stomach twist. But she forced herself to take another step, and another, and still another, until at last she was over the threshold and in the lean-to, which served as an entry to the schoolroom. The lean-to had shelves and a double row of pegs along two of its walls, with the coal bin in one corner, empty now except for a layer of coal dust.

The schoolroom door was cracked open. Hanna heard voices on the other side.

“—think of any other reason?”

“It’s by far the simplest. And the most logical. It just makes sense!”

The second voice was Dolly’s. The first one, maybe Margaret’s.

“I don’t see the use of guessing.” That was Bess.

“Oh, fiddle!” Dolly again. “It’s her own fault for wearing it—she must have known it would make people wonder. And if it’s not a horrible birthmark, it’s probably some kind of nasty scar.”

Hanna went stone-still. They were talking about her, wondering why she hadn’t taken off her bonnet the day before.

Her head down, she stared at the books in her arms. The hem of her sleeve was turned up a little, revealing the tiny lotus she had embroidered there.

Not what I planned. I wanted to make at least one friend first. Rotten eggs—it’ll be a lot harder this way. But Mama would say, that doesn’t give me an excuse not to try.

She shifted the books so she could touch the stitches of the lotus on her sleeve and smooth the fabric into place. Inhaling sharply, she went back to the lean-to’s threshold and kicked the doorframe, loud enough to be heard in the schoolroom.

The talk stopped at once.

Hanna set her books down on a shelf. She took off her bonnet and hung it on a peg. The space around her suddenly felt enormous, her face and head now exposed.

She inhaled deeply and breathed out with a whoosh. Then she squared her shoulders and stepped into the schoolroom. Keeping her gaze straight ahead, she walked the few paces to her desk. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the reactions of the other girls.

Margaret drew back a step.

Edith stayed where she was. Bess turned toward Hanna, the smallest of movements, so subtle that Hanna thought she might have imagined it.

And Dolly?

Dolly’s mouth and eyes were perfect circles of astonishment. Plainly, it hadn’t even occurred to her to try to disguise her surprise. She might be more honest than the others. Or not as well brought up.

The air was so heavy with tension that when Miss Walters spoke, her voice seemed muffled. “Good morning, Hanna,” she said. “I’m just going to ring the bell now.”