Free Come a Stranger by Cynthia Voigt

built like a dancer, long legs and muscular calves, a narrow torso, long arms and neck. Narrow shoulders. She had a flat stomach and small breasts. She looked weak and delicate, but she was actually strong.
    There had been a time when Mina could imagine nothing more rewarding than living the kind of life Miss LaValle lived; now she could imagine more, so much more. . . . The bad side of that was that, now, she didn’t feel like she belonged even here, in the dance studio, anymore.
    She was always feeling out of place these days, Mina realized. She thought of it during her silent walk back with Kat and again in her own kitchen, where Louis read at the table he’d have to set in a couple of minutes, once their mother got home. Mina had put the burner on under a stew and preheated the oven for biscuits. She had the biscuits mixed and shaped when her mother came in the door. “Go over to the church and tell your father his dinner will be on in—?”
    â€œTwelve to fifteen minutes,” Mina said, slipping the two cookie pans into the oven.
    â€œTake a jacket,” her mother called.
    â€œIt’s not far,” Mina called back. “I won’t be cold.” She didn’t take her jacket.
    She went slowly down the front steps, rather enjoying the icy cold of the damp winter air on her bare arms and bare legs. From Miz Hunter’s porch came the question. “Where you going to, Missy?”
    Mina halted in the concealing darkness. Miz Hunter probably stepped out onto her porch to say hello to Mina’s mother, coming back from work. Miz Hunter’s tiny body was silhouetted against the yellow light at the open front door.
    â€œWhere you going to, Missy?” Miz Hunter asked again.
    I don’t know, Mina thought, and everybody’s getting in my way. Stop asking , she thought. “I’m going across to bring Dad home for supper,” she said.
    â€œWell, you have a good evening.”
    â€œYou too,” Mina responded.
    September, October, November, December—they were all gone and done with. January was almost over. It wasn’t that long now anymore.

CHAPTER 7
    M ina’s heart was beating so fast, and so hard, she thought for sure it must show, thumping away under her blouse. Her father was driving slowly through the city of New London and then, slowly, up the river road. They had been riding for hours, without talking much, and Mina had made herself be patient. But now they were so close, and the car was going so slowly, waiting to turn and enter between the stone pillars and creeping up the road to the quadrangle.
    When the car finally stopped, Mina burst out and took her suitcase from the backseat. Her father greeted Miss Maddinton. They talked about nothing in particular. Mina looked at her sneakers and felt her heart, beating.
    It all soaked into her skin, and that was enough for now. If she looked around, at the stone buildings and trees, at all the familiar remembered places, she would start running around to touch everything, and her father would know—he’d know for sure what he’d only guessed, that she was gladder to be back at camp than anywhere else, that she could barely wait for him to leave so she could be by herself and be her own self again. She didn’t want to hurt her father’s feelings by letting him know that, so she stood there with her eyes closed, being there.
    At last, he started to leave. “Have a good time, Mina.” He hugged her close and she hugged him back, her head almost up to his shoulder now. “Behave yourself.”
    â€œI will. Have a good summer, Dad.”
    She made herself stand and wave while the car drove away, a dusty black sedan with the Maryland license plate a little white square. Then she turned slowly around, and smiled.
    â€œYou’re in room three-o-seven,” Miss Maddinton said to her, consulting a list she had on her clipboard. She was wearing a silvery gray