“You aren’t in any kind of trouble. Tell the other kids I had you stick around to help me collect books and pens if they ask, but I want to know…how are things at home? Really.”
"How the fuck do you begin that conversation? How do you blow the top of a strangers head off with desperate hurt that clings to your soul like cigarette smoke clings to the household curtains? How do you begin to cry in front of someone you don’t even know?"
"You don’t."
"You turn that shitty, fake smile into a real one and you create whores’ glory like the bees make royal jelly…total and complete self-sacrifice."
“My grandma died, things have been tough, that’s all.”
"She’ll never forget the sigh her teacher gave. He saw it, he saw the real thing that all his years of instruction had readied him for and he was so fucking glad that he was wrong. He even reached out and put a hand on her shoulder, leaving her for just a second to wonder if he would try something else. He tightened his grip, a sign of relief if there ever was one. “Oh, well I’m sorry to hear that, and I’m sorry for your family’s loss, let me know if you need to talk about it, I’m always here.”
"He had already turned back to his white boards before he finished talking. He was satisfied, that’s all that mattered. As interactions with men went, it seemed as familiar as anything else so she saw herself out."
