I looked around as she dealt. Two bed-tops away, Nisha was trying valiantly to plait Harriet’s messy hair. I thought they kept sneaking glances at us, but I wasn’t sure.

“He ate it,” I whispered.

Janet grimaced. “Draw or pass?”

“Do you think it’ll work?” I asked.

She tapped the cards.

“Pass,” I said.

Somewhere in the beds below, Margaret and Evie were exchanging dirty pick-up lines. If your left leg is Christmas and your right leg is New Year’s, can I visit between the holidays? Are you a hard worker? Because I’ve got an opening you can fill. Have you ever kissed a rabbit between the ears? Would you like to? Would you like to? Would you like to?

“It doesn’t matter,” Janet said. “Serena is used to getting what she wants. If this doesn’t work, I’m sure she’ll find another way.”

The bitterness in her voice surprised me. “Everyone wants what they want,” I said.

“Some more than others,” Janet said.

On the other side of the room, I could see Paola and Jamie sitting close together on Paola’s low bunk. Paola had her fingers threaded through Jamie’s fragile toes. Samantha was staring at them, her face drawn. I had no idea what was going on between them. They slept so close to me and still I hadn’t noticed whatever saga of love or friendship or betrayal was playing out between their beds. It struck me how isolated I was, even in this mass of girls, how my loneliness hadn’t decreased so much as widened its scope ever so slightly.

“I thought you wanted this too,” I said.

“I do,” Janet said. “It’s just—look, I sacrifice a lot to come here. My aunt pays for it, but I lose all the wages that I could have made over the summer. It’s a lot of money for me. And Laurel waits all year to come. She doesn’t really have anyone at home, you know.”

“Come on,” I said. “I’ve seen the pictures. She’s got a million friends.”

“Most of those pictures are at least two years old,” she said. “All those kids she goes to school with—they’re not really her friends. Not anymore. She made a mistake, a couple years ago. They don’t say anything outright, because her father’s important, and their mothers make sure they don’t burn bridges. But they all hate her, and she knows it. I don’t know how she can sleep like that, with all their faces around. Or why she wants to.”

“What kind of mistake?” I said.

“Exactly the kind you’d think.”

I laid down my cards.