Chapter 11
Tuesday morning, I sit on my front porch steps, a cup of coffee warming my fingers, the sun doing its best to warm my arms. The cuts are healing, but the only time I don’t feel chilled is in direct sunlight.
Reginald assures me this will pass once every last cut has healed.
I sip my coffee and wonder if that’s true.
The clacking alerts me long before I see Tara. She skips down the sidewalk. While I’m clearly her destination, she clutches a thin whip of a willow branch that needs to touch everything in her path.
She stops at the end of my sidewalk, braids swaying.
“Hi.” It’s a tentative greeting. The willow branch twitches nervously.
“You can come sit,” I say, “unless you need to get to school.”
“Summer vacation.”
“Really? Since when?” I check the position of the sun as
