Corry and her mother came to visit me on Thursday afternoon. Corry’s arm was in a neon-green cast, and there were dark circles under her eyes, but she looked calm.

Her mother trembled as she took my hand. “Corry has explained some things to me,” she said tearfully, “but I still have a few questions. Perhaps you could come for coffee sometime when you feel better?”

“Yeah, maybe,” I said, glancing at Corry.

She nodded happily and turned to her mother. “Mom, could I have a second alone with Scarlett, please?”

Her mom hesitated, with: as if she might object but couldn’t come up with an excuse.

“You’ll be right outside the door, Mom,” she said softly. “We’ll leave the door open.”

Mrs. Tanger finally nodded and turned away. This was a very different woman from the one I had met only a few days before. This woman knew that her children could be hurt, that she could become powerless to save them. It was a terrible thing to know, and the weight of it seemed to pull on her. I hoped she’d recover.

When she was gone, Corry took the chair on my right and dragged it close to the bed. “So...um...I guess thanks for saving my life and stuff,” she said, smiling hesitantly.

I laughed a little. “You’re welcome.” I pushed the button to raise my bed up, trying to get a better angle for talking to her. “How much are you telling your mom?”

“Not a lot, so far. She knows that I can do something that’s valuable to certain...I think the term I used was ‘criminal elements.’ She isn’t asking a whole lot of questions. I think she doesn’t want to know.”

“And your dad?”

Her smile was sad and wistful. “He’s just pretending the whole thing never happened—that we had a botched robbery or something.”

We were silent for a moment, thinking about that.

Then I said softly, “Have you told them about your teacher?”

“No.”

I nodded. “Look, Corry, I’m not exactly the poster child for mental health, but you really should tell someone. A counselor, a therapist, your mom. You need to be able to talk about it.”

She didn’t answer me, and I didn’t push. We were silent for a long moment, and then she reached into her jeans pocket and pulled out a black Magic Marker. “Um, do you want to sign my cast?”

She held out the marker, and her eyes were full of something—hope. I took the marker, uncapped it, and turned the cast over very gently with my free hand. She already had signatures and little notes from her parents, her brother, a couple of friends, even a teacher. I paused. Then, with guilt and sorrow roiling in my stomach, I put the cap back on the marker.

She looked puzzled. “What?”

“Corry...I don’t think you and I should spend time together.”

Her face changed immediately, beginning to shut down, and I held up a hand.

“Wait, wait, hear me out. The things that we can do, Corry, they’re really valuable to some people. I’m ‘out of the closet,’ or whatever, but nobody knows what you can do except for a very few people, who I trust not to say anything.” At least for now. And I hadn’t forgotten that someone had given Corry away to Jared Hess, but there wasn’t much I could do about that now. “You can still walk away, and I think you should.”

“Why?” she cried, hurt in her eyes. “Why should I bother trying to hide?”

“Because it’s safer, honey,” I said gently. “You were right, what you told your parents. You can do something that some very bad people would love to have at their disposal.” That was a lesson that we’d all learned the hard way. “And as long as you’re spending time with me, those people won’t have to look very hard to find you.”

“But you do it! Everyone knows what you can do, and you’re fine!”

I gestured to the bed. “Look at me. Do I look fine? My situation is complicated, Corry. And you deserve a chance to finish growing up before you choose how complicated you want your life to be.”

“That’s not fair!” she cried. “You’re the only one who...who knows...”

“I’m sorry, Corry. I swear I am.”

Without another word, she stood up, her back perfectly straight, and marched out of the room. I bit my lip hard enough to leave marks. Had I just done the right thing? Or was leaving her out of Dashiell’s protection even worse than having her free? I wished there were someone who would tell me the right thing to do.

That same afternoon, Kirsten came by with a big basket of organic fruit and a plate of cookies. She seemed completely recovered from the whole rescue/surgery trauma and wore a sunny smile on top of her pretty sundress and Grecian sandals. Since I hadn’t had a shower in about five days, this was not healthy for my self-esteem. I nodded at Eli, who kissed my forehead and told me he’d run out for some food. He gave Kirsten a peck on the cheek as he passed her, and she smiled in return. Battling Hess together had definitely built up some trust between the two of them.

I gestured for Kirsten to sit, and she perched in the rocking chair. “They’re chocolate chip,” she said, handing me the cookies.

I took a cookie and bit into it. “Thank you, it’s delicious.”

“You’re welcome,” Kirsten said.

When I had swallowed the bite, I asked, “Did you...Are you okay, after everything that happened?”

Her face turned serious. “I am. I’ve been getting more calls from Dashiell lately. I think he’s starting to see me as a...a player, I suppose. I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.”