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She
set
the
stool
in
front
of
the
window
and
climbed
onto
it
.
This
put
her
face
on
a
level
with
the
hasp
and
padlock
,
at
the
top
.
The
window
itself
,
made
of
frosted
glass
with
chicken
wire
in
it
,
was
framed
in
wood
.
The
wood
had
been
thickly
painted
with
white
enamel
.
Beth
examined
the
screws
that
held
the
painted
hasp
.
There
was
paint
in
their
slots
.
She
frowned
,
and
her
heart
began
to
beat
faster
.
During
the
rare
times
when
Daddy
had
been
home
,
and
sober
,
he
had
liked
to
do
little
jobs
around
the
house
.
The
house
was
an
old
one
,
in
a
poorer
part
of
town
,
and
there
was
heavy
paint
on
the
woodwork
.
Beth
,
five
and
six
years
old
,
had
helped
Daddy
take
the
old
switch
plates
and
outlet
plates
off
the
walls
with
his
big
screwdriver
.
She
was
good
at
it
,
and
Daddy
praised
her
for
it
.
“
You
catch
on
real
quick
,
sweetiepie
,
”
he
said
.
She
had
never
been
happier
.
But
when
there
was
paint
in
the
screw
slots
he
would
say
,
“
Let
Daddy
fix
that
for
you
,
”
and
would
do
something
to
get
the
screw
head
ready
so
that
all
she
had
to
do
was
put
the
blade
in
the
slot
and
turn
.
But
what
did
he
do
to
get
that
paint
away
?
And
which
way
should
you
turn
the
screwdriver
?
For
a
moment
she
almost
choked
in
a
sudden
flush
of
inadequacy
.
The
shouts
from
the
film
arena
rose
to
a
roar
,
and
the
volume
of
the
frenetic
music
rose
with
it
.
She
could
get
down
off
the
stool
and
go
back
and
take
her
seat
.
But
if
she
did
that
,
she
would
go
on
feeling
the
way
she
felt
now
.
She
would
have
to
lie
in
bed
at
night
with
the
light
from
under
the
door
in
her
face
and
the
sounds
from
the
corridor
in
her
ears
and
the
bad
taste
in
her
mouth
,
and
there
would
be
no
relief
,
no
ease
in
her
body
.
She
took
the
screwdriver
handle
and
banged
the
two
big
screwheads
with
it
.
Nothing
happened
.
She
gritted
her
teeth
and
thought
hard
.
Then
she
nodded
grimly
,
took
a
fresh
purchase
on
the
screwdriver
,
and
using
the
corner
of
its
blade
,
began
to
chisel
out
the
paint
.
That
was
what
Daddy
had
done
.
She
pressed
with
both
hands
,
keeping
her
feet
firmly
on
the
stool
,
and
pushed
along
the
slot
.
Some
paint
chipped
loose
,
exposing
the
brass
of
the
screw
.
She
kept
pushing
with
the
sharp
corner
and
more
came
loose
.
Then
a
big
flake
of
paint
fell
off
,
and
the
slot
was
exposed
.
She
took
the
screwdriver
in
her
right
hand
,
put
the
blade
carefully
in
the
slot
and
turned
—
to
the
left
,
the
way
Daddy
had
taught
her
.
She
remembered
it
now
.
She
was
good
at
remembering
.
She
twisted
as
hard
as
she
could
.
Nothing
happened
.
She
took
the
screwdriver
away
from
the
slot
,
gripped
it
in
both
hands
and
put
the
blade
back
in
.
Then
she
hunched
her
shoulders
together
and
twisted
until
her
hands
felt
sharp
pains
in
them
.
And
suddenly
something
squeaked
,
and
the
screw
loosened
.
She
kept
twisting
until
she
could
take
it
out
the
rest
of
the
way
with
her
finger
and
put
it
in
her
blouse
pocket
.
Then
she
went
to
work
on
the
other
screw
.
The
part
of
the
hasp
she
was
working
on
was
supposed
to
be
held
by
four
screws
—
one
at
each
corner
—
but
only
two
had
been
put
in
.
She
had
noticed
this
during
the
past
several
days
,
just
as
she
had
checked
every
day
at
Vitamin
Time
to
see
if
the
green
pills
were
still
there
in
the
big
jar
.
She
put
the
other
screw
in
her
pocket
,
and
the
end
of
the
hasp
came
loose
by
itself
,
with
the
big
padlock
still
hanging
there
,
the
other
end
supported
by
the
screws
that
held
it
to
the
window
frame
.
It
had
not
taken
her
long
to
understand
that
you
would
have
to
remove
only
half
a
hasp
,
not
both
halves
,
the
way
it
had
looked
at
first
.
She
pulled
open
the
window
,
leaning
back
so
it
could
go
by
her
,
and
put
her
head
inside
.
The
light
bulb
was
off
,
but
she
could
see
the
outline
of
the
big
jar
.
She
put
her
arms
inside
the
opening
,
and
standing
on
tiptoe
,
pushed
herself
as
far
forward
as
she
could
.
That
put
her
belly
on
the
sill
of
the
window
.
She
began
to
wriggle
,
and
her
feet
came
away
from
the
stool
.
There
was
a
slightly
sharp
edge
along
the
window
sill
,
and
it
felt
as
though
it
were
cutting
her
.
She
ignored
it
and
kept
on
wriggling
,
doing
it
methodically
,
inching
forward
.
She
both
felt
and
heard
her
blouse
ripping
.
She
ignored
it
;
she
had
another
blouse
in
her
locker
and
could
change
.
Now
her
hands
touched
the
cool
,
smooth
surface
of
a
metal
table
.
That
was
the
narrow
white
table
Mr
.
Fergussen
stood
against
when
he
gave
them
their
medicine
.
She
inched
forward
again
,
and
her
weight
came
down
on
her
hands
.
There
were
some
boxes
there
.
She
pushed
them
aside
,
clearing
a
place
for
herself
.
Now
it
was
easier
to
move
.
She
let
her
weight
come
forward
with
the
sill
under
her
hips
until
it
scraped
the
tops
of
her
legs
and
she
was
able
to
let
herself
flop
onto
the
table
,
twisting
herself
at
the
last
second
so
she
wouldn
’
t
fall
off
it
.
She
was
inside
!
She
took
a
couple
of
deep
breaths
and
climbed
down
.
There
was
enough
light
for
her
to
see
all
right
.
She
walked
over
to
the
far
wall
of
the
tiny
room
and
stopped
,
facing
the
dimly
visible
jar
.
It
had
a
glass
cover
.
She
lifted
this
and
set
it
silently
on
the
table
.
Then
she
slowly
reached
inside
with
both
hands
.
Her
fingertips
touched
the
smooth
surface
of
tens
of
pills
,
hundreds
of
pills
.
She
pushed
her
hands
deeper
,
burying
them
up
to
the
wrists
.
She
breathed
in
deeply
and
held
her
breath
for
a
long
time
.
Finally
she
let
it
out
in
a
sigh
and
removed
her
right
hand
with
a
fistful
of
pills
.
She
did
not
count
them
,
simply
put
them
in
her
mouth
and
swallowed
until
they
had
all
gone
down
.
