I crossed my legs and tightened every muscle of my body. The way Janet had warned me about keeping the room clean, I was terrified of what she might do if I soiled the room with urine. I knocked louder and yelled with urgency.

“Please! Hello? I need bathroom.”

Janet unlocked the door and pointed toward the bathroom just down the hall. I raced into it and closed the door behind me, fumbling with the lock but giving up because I was hit by a sharp cramp in my lower belly.

I was sitting on the toilet when Janet opened the door and peered in. I closed my legs and pulled the edge of my shirt toward my knees. My body clamped down. Despite my urgency, I could not go with her staring at me.

“I just want to remind you to be neat in here too. Not a drop on the floor and wipe down the sink when you’re done. No wasting toilet paper or dropping anything unusual into the commode,” Janet said. When she stopped speaking, her eyes drifted down toward the pants collected around my ankles and my bare legs. She moved in closer and stared at my scalp. She parted my hair with one hooked finger. “No lice. That’s good. You do need a good shampooing, though.”

She retreated and started to close the door behind her.

“There is no lock on the bathroom, by the way,” she said, flashing me a smile that was short one tooth. She looked so perfectly assembled otherwise. “For your own safety, of course.”

Was I wrong to wish for privacy in this moment? Why had Antonia and Tilly seemed so different from this woman?

I finished hurriedly and, while washing up, drank water from my cupped hands. I made sure the sink was dry before I stepped out. The bedroom door was open. I slipped back in and saw that my bag was still on the floor where I’d left it but unzipped and empty of all my clothes. The bag held only a hairbrush and my notebook, into which I’d tucked my copy of Eastern Bound.

I raced down the stairs, feeling robbed. The kitchen was empty, but a small screen door was half open. I walked toward it slowly and saw Janet standing in the backyard, bent over a bucket wide enough for a child’s bath. She was holding a broomstick upside down, the handle submerged in the water.

I stepped outside barefoot and walked toward her.

“Your belongings needed a good washing. I’m only doing it today because you’re new,” she said. “And it needs to be done right at least once.”