Chapter 11Tom Alan wasn’t a fan of sleepovers. Nervous kids tended not to be. There was a point in his life when he had loved them, when he was little, when family life was normal, peaceful, nice. But when he got a bit older and things started going bad, all that changed. The worse things got at home, oddly, the more he hated being away. Staying at a friend’s house, even going to school, he never knew what would await him upon his return. And that made him anxious—still. The more things changed, the more they truly did remain the same.
He had slept well that first night at the Mischen’s because he’d been worn out. After that, it was a struggle. There at Ben’s, despite the soft, warm bedding, all silver and teal damask, not flowers, plus one of those hundred-dollar pillows that molded to y
