“I probably shouldn’t be here at all,” I said, more to myself than to her.

It was the strangest thing. There was no one else in the room with us, and obviously Agatha hadn’t spoken—I was looking right at her, so I would have known. She didn’t even open her mouth.

But I had the distinct impression that I heard someone say, You’re right.

AFTER PUTTING MY things back in the drawers, I sat at the top of the stairs, waiting and watching the front hall below me. Finally, I heard Mr. Albright’s voice—that blend of hearty good humor and polite obedience. He made some kind of goodbye to Laura and then came shuffling closer, humming quietly.

As soon as he came into view, I practically tumbled down the stairs. He looked up, alarmed, clearly thinking I was about to bowl him over.

“Margot,” he said, smiling. “Are you settling in?”

I had to say it quickly, or I’d lose my nerve. “I can’t stay here. I’d like to go back to Palmer House, please.”

His eyes widened in surprise.

“I just don’t think I can be a companion.” The whole idea was ridiculous. Me, keep Agatha company? How, by screaming at her? “I’m not good at things like this. And I don’t think Agatha wants me here.”

Mr. Albright raised his eyebrows. He took a deep, relaxed breath. “I see,” he said quietly.

“Can you please tell Mrs.—I mean Laura?—that I’m grateful, but I think I would be better off at Palmer House.”

“But surely you understand,” he said slowly. “You can’t go back to Palmer House. As your caseworker must have told you, spaces there are in high demand. I recall Ms. O’Neil saying that a new girl was coming to occupy the vacancy this afternoon.”

I froze.

“I apologize,” he said, bowing his head slightly. “I assumed you would have known that.”

“No,” I said. I grabbed the banister to keep from wilting to the ground. “I had no idea.”

He cleared his throat. “I don’t know your exact history, but from what I’ve gathered, you are a . . . difficult placement in terms of foster families. I could take you away from Copeland Hall, but your only alternative at this point is the state institution.”

The institution? “But . . . I don’t need to be in an institution.”

“Of course not.” He patted my shoulder, two brief thumps of support. “Margot, you’re tired, you’re overwhelmed, and you’re in a strange new place. You haven’t even had the chance to take your shoes off.”

We both looked down at my feet, in their cheap rubber flip-flops.

I lowered my voice. My body was still thrumming with adrenaline. “Agatha doesn’t like me.”