13

GLORY STOPS IN THE DOORWAY of the bedroom she shares with her two sisters.

Mom and Dad have talked for years about getting a townhouse with three bedrooms. Well, Mom has talked about it. Dad has listened. Sort of.

She would probably end up sharing a bedroom with Becca. Lyne would use Oldest Sister Rule, call trump and get a bedroom to herself. The same way she called trump years ago and had Dad paint the walls Pepto-Bismol pink. Definitely puke-inducing now.

This bedroom is crammed full. Of the things that define them? She is not so sure. Books. Makeup. Stuffed animals. Dolls. Candles.

One side of the room has Lyne’s double bed. On the other side, the bunkbeds are pushed up against the wall. The little dressing table is near the window.

There’s no way to tell who belongs to what in this room. Sure, Lyne has the makeup. And the candles. But the candles could be swapped out next week with whatever is her newest fad. And Becca has the stuffed animals and the dolls. And they both read the novels. But Lyne has a shelf and a half of self-help books and beauty magazines. And they all share the secret of Lyne sneaking in and out the screenless window.

Glory throws herself down on her bed, studies the wooden slats on the bottom of Becca’s bunk, takes in the faded yellow of Lyne’s comforter, all of it bordered by pink pink walls. She is intertwined with her sisters in this room.