Aaron asked with an unsteady voice, putting a hand on Shane’s back. “No,” Shane cried. “I’m not alright! I’m sick of this. It’s all bullshit.” He shrugged his shoulder, throwing Aaron’s hand off. Sharp bits of gravel cut into his hands and knees, and he wept into his regurgitated peanut butter and jelly sandwich. His eyes clamped shut, and it felt like a belt tightened around his chest. A delicate hand held a paper towel between him and the puke, wiping his nose and mouth. “Come on, Shane.” Kelly’s soft voice cut through the agonizing haze of sadness crushing in on him. “Sit up for me.” She tugged him back so he sat on his calves, his head still drooping forward. “We’ve got to get going,” Tracy shouted sternly from her bus. “Give him a minute, will ya?” Kelly retorted. Kelly combed his hair back from his brow, her touch soothing him like a dose of a powerful painkiller.
