“You don’t know that. Don’t give up on your dreams.”

“I like you.” Rosalie opened the second door on the left side of the hallway. “You’re nice—not like I’ve heard Yankees are.”

Nora wasn’t sure what to say to that, so she followed Rosalie into the room.

“Here you go, sugar.”

Nora put the suitcase down and turned in a circle. The space was small. It held a night table, a small dresser, a closet barely big enough for half her clothes, and a twin bed. The closet had no door, only a curtain separating it from the rest of the room.

“It’s probably not what you’re used to back up north, but you’ll adapt. Honestly, I’m surprised they sent you to bunk here.”

Nora walked over to the bed and tested the mattress with her hands. It seemed to be hard enough, but not too hard. She sat down and invited Rosalie to do the same. “Why does everybody keep saying that?”

“Saying what?”

“That I’m not in the right place. You must be the third person who’s made that observation.”

Rosalie shrugged, and Nora surmised that she was buying time until she could figure out how much was safe to say. Everyone in this place measured their words as if the walls had ears.

“You don’t have to answer that. I don’t want to violate any rules. I don’t even know what all the rules are yet, but I know I don’t want to put you in an awkward position.”

Rosalie leaned over and tapped Nora’s ID badge. “That’s why.”

“My name?”

“No. The “A” on your badge. That letter designates where you’re allowed to go in this place, who you’re allowed to talk to, and what you can hear. That “A” on your badge means you’ve got a really high-level clearance. I’ve only ever seen men with a clearance that high.”

“I see.”

“I work as a housing clerk at The Castle. I can tell you that none of the men with that level of clearance live in a dorm room.”

“They don’t?”

“No. They live in Cemestos, or at least Flat Tops.”

There was that word again. “What’s a Cemesto?”

“It’s a prefabricated house made of asbestos and cement. They come in several models, depending on the size of the family. They’re mostly for married folk, but high-level muckity-mucks live in those too, even if they’re single.” Rosalie covered her mouth. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to imply that you were a snob or anything. Obviously, you’re not.”

“That’s okay. No offense taken.”

“Anyway, I’ll leave you to get settled in. The bathroom is two doors down to your left at the top of the stairs. I’m next door to your right if you need anything.”