FREDRIC'S POV
Who does Mathilda think she is? How dare she talk to me like that? If I didn't have an ounce of patience left in me, she would've passed out from the way I wanted to respond. Honestly, I wouldn't even be here if Grandma hadn't called me to come to the hospital. I'd much rather be with Paula.
"Jo, my dear grandson! Where's Mathilda?" Grandma's cheerful voice came from behind me as she exited the doctor's office. Her face was radiant, as if nothing terrible had happened to Mathilda's father.
"She went to the cafeteria," I said smoothly. "How's Goyle doing?"
I had to put on an act-feign concern, wear the proper expression. In truth, I couldn't care less.
"He's stable," Grandma replied with a sigh of relief. "He didn't lose consciousness because of the stroke he had."
"Oh,
