so quiet it was almost a whisper, “but if you ever want to talk, my door is always open.”
He couldn’t look at her, couldn’t see the care there, couldn’t bear to hear it in her voice.
(Because he didn’t deserve it.) (The nightmare flashed in him, the screaming and the terror, and what happened at the end—)
“I’m fine, Miss,” he mumbled, looking at his shoes. “I’m not going through anything.”
After a second, he heard Miss Kwan sigh again. “All right then,” she said.
“Forget about the first warning and come back inside.” She patted him once on the shoulder and re-crossed the yard to the doors.
And for a moment, Conor was entirely alone. He knew right then he could probably stay out there all day
and no one would punish him for it, which somehow made him feel even worse.
LITTLE TALK
After school, his grandma was waiting for him on the settee. “We need to have a talk,” she said before he even got the door shut,
and there was a look on her face that made him stop. A look that made his stomach hurt.
“What’s wrong?” he asked. His grandmother took in a long, loud breath through her nose and stared out of the front window,
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