As soon as she got over her sickness, she was moved to another house, the one right next to Emmett's. He could see her in her bedroom from his own, through one of the windows, but she always kept the curtains drawn. The days were getting hot now-the women had changed to strapped dresses, the skirts a little higher. The material was thinner and flowed with the breeze. This was the time when boys and girls usually got together, during the summer, when everything was warm and fresh.
Emmett got his own small house, which was on the other side of the house Amy was staying at. His mother and sister lived two houses down.
He was with his friends, a few of whom were soon getting married, in the square, sitting on one of the front doorsteps. Amy passed by, and people stared, whispering at the scars on her arms and legs.
"Look at those scars."
"She'll have those forever."
He heard a girl lean in towards another girl and whisper, "She'll never get married with those."
Amy heard too, because, although the day was sweltering, she pulled on a cloak. Her muscles tensed, and she drew up her hood as more people stared.