I have to believe he does.
Leaning against the brick wall of the building, I start talking. Telling Greg and Cindy feels like peeling off my own skin to expose everything underneath. It hurts.
I don’t play them. I don’t even try. I just start at the beginning and tell them about being the only nonworker in a family of workers. I tell them about Cloe and thinking that I’d killed her, about finding myself on the roof.
“How could all of you be curse workers?” Greg asks.
“Working is like green eyes,” Cindy says. “Sometimes it just shows up in families, but if the parents are both workers, worker kids are more likely. Like, look at how almost one percent of Australians are workers, because the country was founded as a worker penal colony, but only, like, one one-hundredth of a percent of pe
