Chapter
Sixteen

Tory was instantly sorry that she had taken the book – sorry and frightened. She had never stolen anything before. But it was too late to put it back. Daphne was right beside her, telling her
it was time to go.

They walked to Daphne’s apartment building, which was only a few blocks away. The whole way, Tory felt hot with shame about the book in her backpack.

Everything about the apartment building looked new – the row of skinny trees along the walkway, the gleaming black-and-white tile floor in the entrance, the rows of shiny mailboxes. They took an elevator to the third floor, the top floor.

When Daphne opened the apartment door, she let Tory go in first. Tory glanced around. The living room was small and there were shelves crammed with books on every wall. “Where’s the TV?” she asked.

“I don’t watch TV,” said Daphne. “So I don’t have one.”

Tory was shocked. “Do you have a computer?”

“I use the computer at the store. I really don’t want two.”

No TV! No computer! Tory felt panicky. What was she going to do every day?

Daphne told her to leave her backpack by the front door. She gave her a quick tour of the kitchen and bathroom. She pointed to a closed door. “My bedroom’s in there.” She opened the door beside it. “And this is your room.”

The room was small. It had a bright pink bedspread on the bed, a pink carpet, and pink curtains. In one corner was a dollhouse, almost as tall as Tory.

“What do you think?” said Daphne.

“It’s okay, I guess. “

“Well,” said Daphne, sounding disappointed. Tory hunched her shoulders. She wasn’t going to pretend she liked pink. She hated pink.

“Why don’t you play with the dollhouse while I make us some grilled cheese sandwiches?” said Daphne.

Tory didn’t like playing with dolls and she had no idea what to do with a dollhouse. Instead, she stood by the window and looked out at the back alley. She watched a thin striped cat nosing around a pile of old boxes beside a dumpster.
The cat was like her. It didn’t have a home. Nobody loved it. Tory wished she could scoop it up and bring it inside, but there was that stupid rule about no pets.

She was glad when it was time to eat. She had refused breakfast and now she was hungry. Grilled cheese sandwiches were one of her favorite things.

“Well, at least I got something right,” said Daphne, watching her gobble up the sandwich. That made Tory feel guilty but she hardened her heart. Why should she care about this woman’s feelings?

Daphne glanced at her watch. “We’re going to have to eat and run. It’s almost one. I’ll just throw these dishes in the sink. Do you want to use the bathroom?”

The soap in the bathroom was pale purple and shaped like a shell. There was a bottle of coconut hand cream. Tory rubbed cream on her hands, and on her arms too, because it smelled so good.

When she came out of the bathroom, Daphne was standing beside the door, waiting for her. Tory froze. In Daphne’s hand was the book Black Beauty.

Tory stared at her backpack, which was open at Daphne’s feet.

“It’s started to rain,” said Daphne. “I was looking to see if you had a jacket.”

Tory’s legs felt like jelly. She swallowed.

“Oh, Tory,” sighed Daphne. She put the book on a table. “I’ll take it back to the store later. Linda will be waiting. We should get going.”

It would have been better if Daphne had screamed at her. Then Tory could have screamed back that Daphne had no right to snoop in her backpack.

This way, she wanted to curl up in a ball and die.