Gabrielle lowers her head and scuffs the toes of her shoes against each other.
“Look at me!” Andrew hisses.
Gabrielle shakes her head and refuses to meet his glare.
“I—I’m afraid,” she stammers.
“Why?” he asks.
“No,” she whispers, “I’m nervous.”
“Look at me or I’ll put poisonous snakes in your room,” Andrew threatens.
Gabrielle raises her head and meets his gaze in an instant. As he stares into her dark, bright eyes, he remembers the cross-eyed way she stared at the snake and he almost laughs aloud.
“Who’s Mr. Clifford?” Andrew asks.
“He’s the one with patterns,” she says hurriedly, “He has a sharp head that looks very much like yours. If you look, you’ll admit you can see a resemblance.”
“So you’re not calling me names?” Andrew asks suspiciously.
“No. I wouldn’t dare,” she resp
