Free These Girls by Sarah Pekkanen

they were tennis balls, and she’d decided that Abby needed to work on her returns.
    “Are you from the area?”
    “Yes,” Abby said. “I grew up in Silver Spring, and I went to college at the University of Maryland at College Park.”
    “What made you want to become a nanny?”
    “I adore kids,” Abby said, an involuntary smile spreading across her face as she looked at Annabelle sleeping in Bob’s lap. The baby’s tiny pink lips were making sucking motions, as if she was reminiscing about a particularly fabulous meal.
    They were sitting in the living room, Abby in a chair across from Bob and Joanna on the couch. The walls were painted a rich burgundy that complemented the distressed brown leather furniture. It was an elegant room, sleek and symmetrical, with red tulips overflowing from a crystal vase and a big bay window overlooking the grassy front yard, but Abby couldn’t stop lookingat the sharp corners on the glass-topped coffee table and imagining Annabelle’s head making contact when she started to walk.
    Bob kept adjusting a pink knit blanket to make sure it covered Annabelle. Abby would have to show Bob how to swaddle; there wasn’t anything sweeter than a baby wrapped up like a burrito.
    “I think you know I’m working at a day-care center now?” Abby asked. “But I’m in school at U Maryland, too, getting my master’s degree in education. I’d like to become a teacher eventually.”
    Joanna nodded approvingly. “Any siblings?”
    This was always a trick question for Abby. She wouldn’t— couldn’t —say “One brother” because it wasn’t the full truth. Her family never talked about little Stevie, her brother who’d died of a sudden illness just before turning two, but Abby always felt his absence. Some of the older people at the nursing home where she’d volunteered had sworn their old bones could sense rain coming. She understood exactly what they meant; her heart ached when she sensed imminent questions about her family.
    Sometimes she thought her little brother’s death explained why she always wanted to be around kids. She was barely four when he died, and had no memories of him. But it was too awkward to explain the full story to strangers. They always looked uncomfortable and apologized, and she had to reassure them it was all right, even though it wasn’t.
    So she fudged it: “My older brother, Trey, lives in New York. He’s a journalist.”
    That diversion worked: Joanna zeroed in on Trey’s glamorous-sounding job, as Abby knew she would.
    “Where does he work?”
    “ The Great Beyond magazine. He just did a big piece about the young couple who got caught in a massive storm that overturnedtheir sailboat. They floated for three days, clinging to a piece of wood, until they were found.”
    Joanna snapped her fingers. “I’ve heard of him.” She turned to Bob. “He’s the one who was on TV, remember? They interviewed him about the movie based on his book.”
    Bob nodded and steered the conversation back on track. “Right. . . . So, Abby, it would be a full-time job, but we could be a bit flexible. If you wanted to take a morning class one day a week or something, I could adjust my hours.”
    “That would be great,” Abby said. “I was planning on taking classes at night, but thank you. What sort of work do you do?”
    “Tech support. I fix rogue computers. Boring stuff,” he said. Joanna didn’t contradict him, even though he’d proudly told Abby about his wife’s job, joking that she’d be a senator herself someday.
    “I wish I had that skill,” Abby said. “I can barely manage spell-check.”
    “Free computer support is a fringe benefit of this job,” Bob said, and they all laughed a bit more loudly than the joke warranted.
    Abby reached for a cracker from the platter with Brie and green grapes that Joanna had set out, then put it on a little cocktail plate. She was hungry but felt self-conscious being the only one eating. But a moment later, Bob