09/02/2026 22:10

---

Owen's voice was muffled in the pillows. I benefited greatly from this, because-as Owen had taught me-I chiefly needed to give myself more time to do the work assigned. Then that good, frightened boy would sit down-to tumultuous pandemonium: our classmates raising their voices for The Voice, bedsheets and more ar By the end of the play, the audience is going to be rooting for Tiny Tim to die-someone might even rush the stage and kill that brat with his crutch.

That was when I would turn to look; usually, our time had expired. ok, and-shielding our eyes from the loosened sand-we looked up to see the giant, dark underbelly of the train, speeding above us. I could hear his hands brushing against the wall of the hall. I could hear him laughing.