He had a sour feeling in his stomach at what he might find inside.
They’d never pulled him out of school before, not in the middle of the day, not even when she was hospitalized last Easter.
Questions raced through his mind. Questions he ignored. He pushed open the door, fearing the worst.
But his mum was awake, her bed in its sitting-up position. What’s more, she was smiling, and for a second, Conor’s heart leapt.
The treatment must have worked. The yew tree had healed her. The monster had done it–
Then he saw that the smile didn’t match her eyes. She was happy to see him, but she was frightened, too.
And sad. And more tired than he’d ever seen her, which was saying something.
And they wouldn’t have pulled him out of school to tell him she was feeling a little bit better.
“Hi, son,” she said, and when she said it, her eyes filled and he could hear the thickness in her voice.
Conor could feel himself slowly starting to get very, very angry.
“Come here,” she said, tapping the bedcovers next to her. He didn’t sit there, though, slumping instead in a chair next to her bed.
“How’re you doing, sweetheart?” she asked, her voice faint, her breath even shakier than it had been yesterday.
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