I don’t like my bracelets. They’re tight and heavy and metal. They match my necklace, but I don’t like that either.My friends with the Shock Sticks said I’ve been bad, so I have to wear them.

  I don’t remember being bad. There was some blood, and screams. Is that bad?If Momma were here, she would tell me.But I painted her red already.Maybe when she screamed, it was bad.Sissy screamed a lot louder.

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  I smile, and one of my friends shoves my shoulder blades.

  I turn to the friend on the right. He’s not red like Momma was. I wonder if he would like it.Sissy didn’t.

  Oh—there’s my new home. It’s dark and big, and there are more friends by the door.I wonder if they would like to be red.

  “Eli Hart?” one of my new friends asks.

  I giggle. “That’s also my name." One of my old friends jabs me and pushes me forward. I didn’t say goodbye.