Conor still didn’t move. The rest of their Year had already gone inside.
He could feel the quiet opening up around them, even Anton and Sully falling silent.
They would have to go soon. They needed to go now. But nobody moved.
Harry raised a fist and pulled it back as if to swing it at Conor’s face.
Conor still didn’t flinch. He didn’t even move. He just stared into Harry’s eyes, waiting for the punch to fall.
But it didn’t. Harry lowered his fist, dropping it slowly down by his side, still staring at Conor.
“Yes,” he finally said, quietly, as if he’d worked something out. “That’s what I thought.”
And then, once more, came the voice of doom. “You boys!” Miss Kwan called, coming across the yard towards them like terror on two legs.
Break was over three minutes ago! What do you think you’re still doing out here?
“Sorry, Miss,” Harry said, his voice suddenly light. “We were discussing Mrs Marl’s Life Writing homework with Conor and lost track of time.”
He slapped a hand on Conor’s shoulder as if they were lifelong friends. “No one knows about stories like Conor here.”
He nodded seriously at Miss Kwan. “And talking about it helps get him out of himself.”
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