Through most of the ride, none of us really said anything. It was hard to hear over the sound of the vehicle, and there wasnt much to say. Are you scared that the Omte will literally crush you? Oh, me too!
Youre not thinking…no. You wouldnt. Not the AGT.And there, in his beautiful eyes, is admission, confirmation. He wants to be a terrorist. My throat clenches. He doesnt know the things they do, he couldnt and still be thinking of this.
Its the only way to make the government listen, to change things. Dont you see?I shake my head, back away. Is this Ben, or is it the pills? Have they made him think like this?Look at you, he says. After yesterday, you didnt even want to look at me. You didnt want to talk to me, nothing. I was six feet of useless.
That wasnt your fault, and its not that!Youre just proving it all over again.
Youd be better off if you never met me.
How can you say that? Kyla, dont you know how I feel about you?You want me to stay under control, I say, surprise at the realisation making the words come out before I have the chance to censor them.
Some amusement crosses his eyes.There is a knock at the door: Ben. I spring to my feet, but Dad raises a hand. Stay here a minute, he says. He goes to the door, answers it, and I wait: listen to Dad introducing himself to Ben, a little chat about running and school. Ben, as always, is open, polite. Pleasant. The sort of boy adults like.
Dad sticks his head through the front room doorway. Go on, then, he says. But remember what we spoke about.Sorry about that, I say after the door is safely shut behind us.