Chapter 2

“You know, Sissy’s birthday is tomorrow,” Sherry whispered, her voice barely audible over the low hum of the refrigerator. She was leaning against the counter, her fingertips tracing the rim of her coffee mug, looking at me with an expression that was half-hope and half-terror. It was the first time she’d ever shared a secret with me that didn’t involve a warning.

I paused, the spatula mid-flip on a stack of blueberry pancakes. “Is it? I didn’t know. Does she ... does she do anything for it?”

Sherry’s smile faded, a shadow crossing her blue eyes. “Not for a long time. Usually, Sissy just spends the day counting the minutes until it’s over, making sure I’m safe. She doesn’t like the attention, but she loves sweets. Like, really loves them.”

We ate breakfast with Sissy that morning in a silence so thick you could have carved it with the knife she still insisted on keeping within arm’s reach. She sat on the edge of the chair, her eyes darting toward the door, her body a coiled spring of distrust. Once the meal was over, Sissy retreated to her frozen aluminum sanctuary.

Sherry and I did a quick run to the local market. Instead of fearing me, she clung to my arm and timidly searched for danger in every direction. At the store bakery, she chose a decadent double-chocolate fudge cake, the kind that looks like a crime against health, and a birthday card with a shimmering gold foil cover that felt far too fancy for anybody living in a tool shed.

After we finished piling groceries into my car, I bought a high-end, plush faux-fur throw blanket, a pair of heavy-duty wool-lined boots, and a couple of small hanging lamps. If Sherry’s mother was determined to live in that corrugated metal fortress, I wanted her to at least be warm and able to see at night.

I set the cake on the kitchen table, covering the gifts next to it with a beautiful floral print dress, which I hoped would encourage her to stay indoors longer. At lunch when she saw them, Sissy stopped dead in her tracks. Her gaze snapped from the gifts to me. She didn’t smile, but she didn’t run. She just stood there, her chest heaving, looking at the chocolate frosting as if it were a miracle she didn’t deserve.

“What do you want?” she asked, her voice a low, jagged edge of suspicion. “Nobody just gives things. What’s the catch? You want something from me? You want us to do something?”

I kept my hands open and visible, palms up, stepping back to give her a wide berth. “No catch, Sissy. No bill, no fine print. Sherry told me it was your birthday. I figured a day like that deserves more than a cold shed and a piece of stale bread.” I pointed toward the cake, the rich scent of cocoa filling the room. “I just want you to sit down, take off your coat, and eat some cake. That’s the only ‘catch’, that you relax and enjoy yourself for ten minutes.”

Sissy didn’t look at me. Her eyes flicked to Sherry, narrowing into two slits of piercing suspicion. She leaned in, her voice a harsh, jagged whisper that cut through the silence of the kitchen. “Did you let him touch you, sleep with him, just so he’d buy the boots and the cake?”