1642734778_punk-57-pdf

At least I got the watch back. I got both of what I came here for, so I
should be happy.
Unfortunately, though, those things that seemed so important three
weeks ago seem kind of trivial now.
“Why did he have your watch?” I hear someone ask.
I jerk, startled, and look up. Ryen leans on the corner next to my chair,
probably having just come down the hallway from the entrance.
“That was the watch you were looking for, right?” she presses.
“How did you get here?” I sit up. “You didn’t drive, did you?”
“I’m sober,” she answers. “Now answer the question. What are you
doing? What’s going on?”
I face forward again, leaning back in my chair.
I know I need to stop dodging, and I have no reason not to tell her, but
where do I start? I want her to understand, but I also want to know if we can
make it back to where we were in our letters and to where we were when I
was Masen. I want to get there without her pity.
“You want me to trust you,” she points out, “but you’re still keeping
things from me.”
I turn to her, opening my mouth to speak, but just then, three guys come
down the hallway and enter the station, stopping when they see me.
I move to stand up, but my cousin pushes me back down.
“I’m sorry, man,” I rush out, hating that he had to come all the way
down here.
But Will just smiles at me. “Getting arrested is a Thunder Bay boy’s rite
of passage,” he jokes, beaming with pride.
I roll my eyes. Will’s two friends, Michael Crist and Kai Mori, stand
behind him, looking amused.