11
Scout had never seen Emilie look so thoroughly exhausted and wired with energy at the same time. Some degree of those things was sort of her trademark, but never anything like the way she looked now. Too thin, too pale, too twitchy. Her shock of red hair had faded to a yellowish pink, white at the ends and dark brown at the roots. Scout hadn’t realized how carefully crafted her riot of curls had been until she saw it now in its matted, unkempt state.
She was watching Scout closely for her reaction to that name, the eyes behind those familiar dark frames wide, the pupils jumping back and forth.
“We have to get out of here,” Scout said at last. It made her heart hurt just looking at her friend. Watching from above, she hadn’t had a clue how bad things had gotten. She hadn’t even notice
