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I hear Dr. Donna’s voice barking out orders, but I don’t
dare peek around the desk.
“She can’t have run very far. You, check the stairs. You,
the elevator; she might’ve been stupid enough to try that.
And you and you, start checking each and every one of
these rooms! Get these people out of my way! Move it!”
They’re going to catch me, and when they do, I’m sure
that their starving me will be the least of my worries. At the
thought of all the other things they might do to me, the hum
in my head gets louder. I close my eyes against a sudden surge
of red haze. Once, in gym class, I’d run too fast in heat with-
out drinking enough and passed out in the locker room. This
is the same red haze that overtook me right before I went
down, and I can’t afford to be unconscious now.
My hands run along the bottom of the desk, looking for
a drawer. There must be one, where they keep the pencils
and pens and paper clips. I find it, pulling quickly, no time
for quiet. They’re coming.
The drawer comes out too fast, spilling everything. I
fumble, clumsy, trying to keep my eyes focused on the junk
strewn all over the floor. I find a paper clip and straighten
it, even though my fingers don’t want to work. I drop it.
Can’t find it.
Breathe, Velvet,
I hear my mother say.
Breathe, honey. You
can do this.
I find the slim piece of metal and slide my fingers along
the collar, searching for that tiny, nearly invisible hole, but
