I stopped walking. People streamed around us. A few shot us dirty looks, but most just zipped around us, hurrying to their classes. I’d known her a day. That one moment told me so much more about her than all the other hours we’d spent together. She was unhappy. She hated her stepmother. She wished for her old life. And she blamed herself. As if she realized she’d given me a full window to her inner workings, Summer grinned at me, looking at me sideways. “What are you looking at?” A broken daughter. I shook my head. “Nothing.”
