She has fussed, scolded, and petted me since she learned I fell rescuing my cat from a tree. That was three days ago. The woman won’t let me do anything, and I’m so bored, I called Mags and Dane and asked them to come over and keep me company. I don’t have to beg hard. While I know they love me, they also love Jenny’s snacks. The three of us recline, stuffing our faces with chocolate-raspberry torte. I’ve never eaten a torte before, and I know I speak for all of us when I say we could get used to this part of captivity. “Fallout is in two weeks,” Maggie says. “I don’t suppose the warden will let you out of your cage to go with us?” While I’m not the most social of creatures, nor have I had much time, I do like to dance. Fallout is the first of three annual dances our high school throws, the others being homecoming and prom. “Doubtful,” I answer. “He gave me a resounding no when I asked if you could spend the night.”
