Miles is livid. There’s no other word for what he’s feeling right now.
He’s sat watching Alex silently in the middle of their English class, eyeing the purple bruise that Alex is sporting just below his left eye. It appears that Terrence’s handling of him has proved to be even rougher than Miles can recall; Alex’s cheek is marked so badly, not even some make-up has managed to cover up the discoloured skin. Alex catches Miles looking him over with a passive-aggressive expression on his face, enabling him to comprehend Miles’s disapproval, but for some odd reason, Alex keeps quiet and pretends that nothing has happened.
“Are you sure you’re alright? Does it hurt?” Miles mouths as quietly as he can, trying not to interrupt the film that Ms. Hayward has put on about 19th century novelists. M
