Chapter 3

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He’d skipped school before but never when he had detention. What would the school have to say when he didn’t show up at the door of that silent blue room by the first bell? Would they call his house? Would they add another day to his punishment? He wasn’t sure, and that uncertainty ate into his nerves until his stomach fluttered, his blood sang, and he jumped at every little sound. A creak in the floorboards, the squeal of the cabinet hinge, the clatter of a fork falling into the sink as he tried to take one of the cups off the dish rack to pour himself a drink. Twice he looked over his shoulder with a guilty start, sure his mother was standing behind him, the sad set of her mouth showing her disappointment.

In him.