After we pick out some custard buns at the bakery, I wait outside for Noah to finish paying. Across the street, I see a familiar face.
Alex is standing in front of the post office, watching me. There’s unrestrained fury in his eyes when the door behind me opens and Noah walks out to join me. Alex is about to take a step forward, but one of his friends sees us and, realizing his intent, puts his hand on Alex’s shoulder, stopping him.
Noah follows my gaze. “Friends of yours?”
Slowly, I shake my head. “No.”
By the time I get home, my heart feels icy cold. I remove the plank from the floorboard and take out the money box I keep in there. Counting the cash yet again, as if I didn’t just do it yesterday, I confirm that I’m going to need a lot more. My mental calculations tell me that if I st
