Eric
We were halfway to the packhouse when I glanced across at Cleo.
She sat rigidly in the passenger seat, staring through the windshield as if the road ahead held all the answers she was afraid to ask for.
School.
Just the thought of it felt strange.
A week ago, we had been running for our lives.
Now we were worrying about timetables, textbooks, and which subjects we wanted to study.
It almost felt normal.
Almost.
“So… school on Monday, huh?” I said, watching her from the corner of my eye.
“Yeah. Fun,” she replied flatly.
I snorted.
“Hey, we don’t know that yet. It might actually be fun. Give it a chance, huh?”
She slowly turned her head and stared at me.
“Are you on drugs?”
I raised an eyebrow.
“Since when is school ever fun?”
I struggled to keep a straight face.
“Well
