Part 97 (2/2)

mother.”

That made her laugh. She couldn't say why, but it made her laugh.

”Neither do I, I guess.” She sniffled, sighed. ”I hardly remember her.”

”There, you see.” Satisfied, Marianne plopped down again. ”If you don't

remember her, you can't be like her.”

It sounded logical, and she needed to believe it. ”I don't look like

her.”

Wanting to judge fairly, Marianne took up the article and studied the

pictures. ”Not a bit. You've got your father's bone structure and

coloring. Like it from an artist.”

Emma lifted a hand to her tender lobes. ”Are you really going to pierce

Teresa's ears?”

”You bet-with the dullest needle I can find. Want to do one?”

Emma grinned.

STEVIE Had NEVER been so scared. There were bars all around and the

steady drip, drip, drip, of a faucet somewhere down the hall. Voices

were raised occasionally and echoed. There was the shuffling of feet,

then the G.o.dawful silence.

He needed a fix. His body was trembling, sweating. His stomach was

knotted, refusing to let him release the nausea in the scarred porcelain

john in the corner. His nose and eyes were running. It was the flu, he

told himself He had the freaking flu and they'd locked him up. He

needed a b.l.o.o.d.y doctor, and they'd shut him up and left him to rot.

Sitting on the cot, he brought his knees up to his chest, pus.h.i.+ng his

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