and it was what he focussed on now as he stood, the strange metallic flavour that made you want to spit it out immediately,
like you’d eaten something that wasn’t food at all. He swallowed it instead.
Harry and his cronies would have been thrilled beyond words if they knew Conor was bleeding.
He could hear Anton and Sully laughing behind him, knew exactly the look on Harry’s face, even though he couldn’t see it.
He could probably even guess what Harry would say next in that calm, amused voice of his that seemed to mimic every adult you never wanted to meet.
“Be careful of the steps there,” Harry said. “You might fall.” Yep, that’d be about right.
It hadn’t always been like this. Harry was the Blond Wonder Child, the teachers’ pet through every year of school.
The first pupil with his hand in the air, the fastest player on the football pitch, but for all that, just another kid in Conor’s class.
They hadn’t been friends exactlyHarry didn’t really have friends, only followers;
Anton and Sully basically just stood behind him and laughed at everything he did – but they hadn’t been enemies, either.
Conor would have been mildly surprised if Harry had even known his name. Somewhere over the past year, though, something had changed.
Harry had started noticing Conor, catching his eye, looking at him with a detached amusement.
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