Free Nothing Bad Is Going to Happen by Kathleen Hale

and worry about getting sued. I’ve overheard enough conversations to that extent.
    â€œWhat if she claims sexual harassment?” Mr. Bender, the biology teacher, asked one day when I was accidentally on purpose eavesdropping near the teachers’ lounge. ( Libby sounds a lot like Kippy , so I thought I heard my name—though it quickly became clear that they were not talking about me.)
    â€œShe looks like a model from one of those sex magazines, don’tcha know. I feel like I’ve gotta pass her.”
    â€œGive her that C,” Mr. Hannycack responded. “Don’t quote me on it, Frank, but I sure think it’s best to avoid any hubbub, you betcha.”
    â€œI don’t know how to put this,” Mr. Bender continued, “but she could say I’d been looking and she wouldn’t be lying.”
    â€œJoin the club, Frank. Anyone with eyes would look.”
    Come to think of it, Libby grew religious around the time she grew boobs. As soon as they got gigantic at the tender age of ten, she started all these Jesus committees—I guess to ward off the dirty rumors that were already spreading about her, despite her age, and based solely onher bra size. Then she began aggressively proselytizing to anyone she hadn’t seen in church, which mainly included Ruth, who was Jewish, and me, because I had trouble going back there after burying Mom. Libby would yell at me to show up more often, or else risk hellfire. She still encourages me to come with her on Sundays, though she’s nicer about it now. And honestly, I have to admit I’m drawn to the idea, if only because I want so badly to believe in something other than myself. And I know it helps other people to gaze heavenward when folks around them start dying. But I feel like if God were something real, I’d know it by now. My mom is dead, and I’ve had neighbors pass away, and now Ruth is gone, and so far it doesn’t feel like there are all these new angels in heaven smiling down on me, keeping me all warm and protected. As far as I can tell, they’ve disappeared.
    â€œYou need info, right?” Libby asks now, unzipping her tight hoodie to reveal about an inch of cleavage. “Fine. I’m gonna walk around until I find the right idiot.”
    â€œYou’re going to seduce an orderly?” I hiss.
    â€œNot all the way!”
    â€œYou don’t have to debase yourself on my account! We’ll get information somehow—”
    â€œGeeze Louise, honey, enough with all your gender crap. I’m just using what Gah gave me, and I’m only gonnastand there talking. It doesn’t take much else. Now let’s split up.” She shakes her head at my outfit. “You go look for Davey. No offense but this isn’t gonna work if you’re standing next to me. You look like a gigantic toddler.”
    I gaze down at the snowsuit she brought me; it’s a vibrant shade of purple and covered in black polka dots. Libby said she found it in one of her mom’s attic boxes labeled 1987. All that matters to me is that I’m warm—well, too warm now, actually.
    I unzip the snowsuit like Libby did with her hoodie. “Is that better?”
    She shakes her head, so I tie the arms around my waist, exposing the full phrase JESUS RULES. “How about this?”
    â€œPerfect—now go,” she says, shoving me. “Find your BF. And if anyone sees you, pretend you’re crazy and wandered in by accident.”
    I duck around the corner, bristling slightly at the word crazy , and crouch behind a bubbler. A doctor walks across the hall, clutching a stethoscope around her neck, and disappears into a dark room, shutting the door behind her. There aren’t many places on this floor that Davey could be, so searching for him shouldn’t be too hard.
    I scamper across the hall and start checking the charts hanging outside the doors.
    Albus , the first one reads.
    I press my