first a second round and now a third. The teachers in his new year were even worse
because they only knew him in terms of his mum and not who he was before.
And the other kids still treated him like he was the one who was ill, especially since Harry and his cronies had singled him out.
And now his grandma was hanging around the house and he was dreaming about trees.
Or maybe it wasn’t a dream. Which would actually be worse. He walked on angrily to school.
He blamed Lily because it was mostly her fault, wasn’t it? He blamed Lily, because who else was there?
This time, Harry’s fist was in his stomach. Conor fell to the ground, scraping his knee on the concrete step,
tearing a hole in his uniform trousers. The hole was the worst part of it. He was terrible at sewing.
“You’re such a spaz, O’Malley,” Sully said, laughing behind him somewhere.
“It’s like you fall every day.” “You should go to a doctor for that,” he heard Anton say.
“Maybe he’s drunk,” Sully said, and there was more laughter, except for a silent spot between them where Conor knew Harry wasn’t laughing.
He knew, without looking back, that Harry was just watching him, waiting to see what he would do.
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