7
Sage
A COUPLE OF days later, during Art Class, I noticed that Phalen was unusually quiet. When I asked her about it, she yawned and then informed me that she was tired.
“Oh? Didn’t you get enough sleep?”
She shrugged and kept painting her picture—a green pasture with a tall flower in the middle. Thankfully, there was no violence depicted. I wondered if Caden had talked to her.
“Did you stay up late with your uncle?” I asked, unable to help myself. I’d spent the last couple of days obsessing over him again. On one hand, I was worried about his parenting of Phalen. On the other, I couldn’t get his disarming smile out of my head. Or the way his butt had looked in his jeans as he’d left the classroom.
She looked up at me. “No. But I had to stay over at Aunt Frannie’s house last night.”
