The Girl Who Stayed

gone for

y. The clock on the stove blinks 7:02 AM, but the power must've gone out a

f her classic voicemail rants that always sta

appear out of loyalty. Nothing but the dusty sound of disappointment. I think about mixing water with

, and a slice of processed cheese that's curled at the edges like it's afraid of

t was supposed to be for laundry. Mom left it before her last shift at the diner. "In case the

he wasn't

zip up my hoodie. My stomach growls like it's arguing wit

Crenshaw doesn't see me walking past her window. She's the neighborhood snoo

wrong. Just...

nd wash my face with the awful pink soap that smells like fake flowers. I use the hand dryer to fluff up my

y can

secretly counting the hours until lunch. If I can just make it to lunch, I can eat something and fig

om drama club. They don't really notice me, which is good. I make a show of opening my brown b

ard. "You already used u

h card. My mom-she said s

gh. Maybe she pities me. Maybe she knows. May

t I chew like it's steak. I pocket an orange and two plastic forks. You'd b

t go home. There's n

rry, knows me. He's the kind of guy who talks too much, mostly about h

y?" he asks w

"Working

Tough lady

fake a smi

ook at the snacks until he disappears into the back. Then I slid

than any TV ever could. I stare at the door and wonder if she'll walk through it. Sm

door sta

alf the number. But what would I say? "Hey,

's not

e's c

the smallest bite I can manage. I need it to last.

er bill. And maybe the landlord

se my

n't

ho still think someon