"I'm concerned for your safety."
That sounded a lot like I was on the verge of committing suicide.
"All right," I said, "I'll think about it."
"Thank you."
Only so I wouldn't pass all the classes I needed to get out of Maine without turning into a drowsy puddle.
"May I go?" I asked.
Mr. Gabler said, "I have one more question, though I doubted he could keep me in his office because this was an unofficial meeting.”
Despite my nausea, I said, "Sure."
There is one more question. That couldn't possibly lead to anything good.
"You didn't show up for school yesterday." That wasn't even supposed to be a question. It was merely a factual statement.
In light of what had happened, my mother, who was just superstitious enough, proved to be easy to please. I had a bad feeling about
