“That’s enough now, Ruth,” Shelley says.

Ruth puts one hand over her mouth but then starts laughing again. Louder this time.

Shelley turns to me. “Are you all done, Penny?”

“Yes, I am.”

Jack starts to clear some of the plates.

“We didn’t get it all,” Ruth says. “Two little pieces of carrot.”

I feel myself shiver.

Ruth sticks her tongue out at me.

“Ruth, leave Penny alone,” says Shelley. “Jack, will you help Ruth back to her room?”

I stare at the spot on the table where my plate was. Jack helps Ruth up from her chair. I can feel her eyes on me. Her arm brushes by mine as she leaves the table.

“What are you doing to Hilbert? What have you done to him?” I ask Shelley.

But she’s gone back to the kitchen and doesn’t hear me.

“Come on, Ruth,” Jack calls from the door. “Let’s go.”

I don’t look up again until Shelley sets a teacup down in front of me.

“I think I’d prefer to go back to my room now,” I say. “If that’s okay.”

“What about your tea and dessert? You never miss those.”

“No, I don’t need anything else right now.”

“You don’t want to miss your dessert. You love cherry pie.”

“I’d rather take it back to my room. I’m tired.”

“Well, we don’t usually eat in the rooms, but it’s not a strict rule. I’ll carry it for you.”

Shelley, a couple of paces behind, carrying the tea in one hand and the dessert in the other, follows me back to my room. I enter my room first and sit down in my reading chair. It groans under my weight as I sink into it. Shelley puts the food down on top of the dresser.

“It’s here for whenever you’re ready for it. But best not to let it sit too long.”

She’s about to go when she takes a moment to look around the room. I’ve hidden the portrait between my desk and the wall. I feel terribly self-conscious about it. I’m embarrassed I don’t have more done. I should be further along. I’m hoping she doesn’t notice.

Shelley steps toward me.

I bring my hands together in my lap, curling my fingers to cover my nails. She bends down and gently takes hold of my left hand.

“Oh, look at this,” she says, running her thumb across each of my nails. She checks my other hand. “They’re getting a bit jagged. We’ll have to fix you up.”

Shelley continues rubbing my hand for a moment longer than feels normal.

“Does it matter?”

“Pardon?” she says.

“Does it matter if my nails get jagged or long or if I bite them? Why are you obsessed with my nails?”

“I’m obsessed with taking care of you, Penny, and your nails don’t stop growing.”

Shelley lets go of my hand. It drops into my lap. I hear her footsteps all the way down the hall, until my room is silent. I get up, standing in front of the window. I put my ear to the cool glass. I can’t hear anything out there. Nothing.