Monday, October 26
Fletcher was still lying there, in a half-sleep of exhaustion, when he heard the front door open, voices, footsteps. His mother and stepfather were home. Were they supposed to be back now? He couldn’t remember whatever date Paul had put on the kitchen chalkboard. Fletcher sat up slowly, rubbing his eyes and finger-combing his hair. He glanced at his bookshelves, noticing all the empty spaces from the books he had hauled over to Sam’s house. Let Sam have the books. He looked at his watch, almost too late to make it to English class. I have to get up, go say hello, eat, make them think everything is okay, not ask me any questions, run to class.
He dressed quickly, grabbed his things, and ran upstairs to the kitchen. His mother was just about to take her suitcase to their
