Lucy could sense her mental resolution to nip Michelle’s burgeoning obsession with the occult in the bud. “He knows. It would have been very well if she had been some common creature who might have been bought off. Socks and shoes were harder to find, and she ended up wearing men’s athletic tube socks and a pair of dust caked flip-flops that had sat forlornly in Locker 49 since 1978. I’m right again now. “Why can’t you tell people that you are what you are? Why all the secrecy?” She looked beyond the farmhouse. I told her I was sick today and she told me to get over myself. You see, I have had to look after myself so long that I have developed a terrible bump of independence.
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