“Only as deep as your hand,” she said, measuring her own hand against the edge of the tub to demonstrate the amount of water allowed. Then she pointed at the bar of soap on a ceramic dish on the corner of the tub. She had her hand on the door to step out when I stopped her.

“Please, how can I lock door?” I asked in a hushed voice. Shawna shook her head apologetically.

“Don’t worry, he’s not going to come in here,” she said as she walked away, leaving me to wonder if she was talking about Gabriel or Everett.

I stripped down to my underwear in the corner of the bathroom just behind the door. If anyone were to barge in, they would not have seen me. I turned my pants pocket inside out and gnawed with my teeth to free the ring I’d sewn there. The medicine cabinet door opened with a creak. It was empty and not a good place to hide anything. The sink stood on a pedestal with a soap dispenser on one side of the faucets and a glass jar of big cotton puffs on the other. I tucked the ring amid the balls and checked to be sure it wasn’t visible.

I pressed my ear to the door. Hearing no steps in the hallway, I darted into the bathtub and pulled the white shower curtain closed. I slipped into the cool water and began to rub soap on my arms and legs. I was washing my shoulders when the bathroom door opened.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” Janet said cheerfully.

I wrapped my arms around my knees. Janet pulled the shower curtain back and saw that I’d not removed my underwear.

“Well, modesty is a good thing but not practical in a bathtub.” The draft coming in through the open bathroom door sent a shiver down my body and the water seemed to be getting colder by the minute.

“Yarenna,” Janet said, then tried again. “Mm . . . Aryayna? Such a tongue twister! How about we call you Anna? That’s a lot easier.”

My skin prickled.

“Now, a warm bath and a good scrubbing will make you a whole new person.”

She smiled sweetly, her head tilted to the side. But her transfixed eyes and set jaw warned me not to disobey. She poured shampoo onto the top of my head and watched as I washed my hair. With a huff, she pushed my hands out of the way and dug her fingers into my hair, scratching at my scalp. Then she handed me a washcloth similar to the ones my mother would crochet and told me to scrub hard, then harder, at my skin. Not since I was an infant had anyone but my mother seen me naked.

“It should go without saying, but you need to clean your girl parts too,” she said, pointing one finger in the general direction of my body.