Someone jostled me from behind—by accident, probably—and I pushed back, making sure to give the offender a look that said he’d better not mess with me again. Then I returned to staring at my feet, absentmindedly tugging down the sleeve of the thin sweater I wore to keep my wrist hidden. Ms. Cecily had replaced the gauze with a rectangular bandage, but it still seemed best to keep it out of sight. The fact that it was on my damn wrist really did make it look like I might’ve tried to off myself.God, Hector was such a fucking asshole.I snagged a shrink-wrapped plate of tater-tots to add to the apple and chocolate milk already on my tray. The condensation along the top of the plastic film was starting to drip down onto the fried potato bits, and I knew by the time I got to a seat my food would be all soggy and gross. Not that I really ate much at lunch. I’d just make up for it later, ’cause as much as I couldn’t stand Ms. Loretta, she did cook some fucking good meals.There was probably another reason I didn’t have much of an appetite at lunchtime—that whole no-place-to-belong thing stood out here more than ever.
