“I can’t believe they’re sending you away.” “Me neither.” It was the last day of June, and the two of them sat on the porch steps leaning against his dad’s old army duffel, waiting. “Promise House is going to suck without you,” she said. “It sucked with me.” Molly laughed. “You’re right. It did.”...
It blistered and chafed me, and more than anything I wanted to throw it in a tin garbage bin and reduce it to smoldering ashes—but not until after everyone had gotten a good eyeful of me wearing it. I still don’t understand why I wanted it gone so badly. Why was I so ready to slough it off on the...