Atticus comes to school with me again the next morning, despite my quiet hope that he might decide not to at the last minute, and I don’t argue this time because I don’t have the energy for it and because, if I’m honest with myself, part of me is relieved he’s there. The day feels heavy before it even starts, the sky dull and overcast, the kind of grey that presses down instead of opening up, and the pack is restless in a way that hasn’t settled since the body was found near the border.
We walk through the front doors together, his presence steady at my side, and the reaction is immediate but controlled, students shifting their weight, conversations lowering, heads turning just enough to register us without being obvious about it. The alliances that started forming days ago have solidifie
