“You can’t touch anything or sit anywhere,” Conor said. “You can’t leave a mess for even two seconds.
And she’s only got internet out in her office and I’m not allowed in there.”
“I’m sure we can talk to her about those things. I’m sure there’s lots of room to make it easier, make you comfortable there.”
“I don’t want to be comfortable there!” Conor said, raising his voice. “I want my own room in my own house.”
“You wouldn’t have that in America,” his father said. “We barely have room for the three of us, Con.
Your grandma has a lot more money and space than we do. Plus, you’re in school here, your friends are here,
your whole life is here. It would be unfair to just take you out of all that.”
“Unfair to who?” Conor asked. His father sighed. “This is what I meant,” he said.
“This is what I meant when I said you were going to have to be brave.”
That’s what everyone says,” Conor said. “As if it means anything.
“I’m sorry,” his father said. “I know it seems really unfair, and I wish it was different–
“Do you?” “Of course I do.” His father leaned in over the table. “But this way is best. You’ll see.”
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