Then he put his chair against it again. Rew and I stood blinking in the light of the kitchen. Neither of us said a word. My head still felt funny, and my stomach worse. I sat down in one of the kitchen chairs and pressed my cold hands against my forehead, trying to right myself. Rew leaned over me, tugging a little at my arm. “You okay? Did he choke you too much?” I tried to shake my head, but it made my stomach lurch. So I said, “No, it’s just the stink of that old basement. I hate that couch.” I looked at him from the corners of my eyes and tried to smile, but I could see his relief quickly turning to fury again. He looked up, past me, into the living room. “She cares more about him than she does us,” he said. With an effort, I lifted my head and followed his gaze. Gran was sitting there, still, on the couch. But she hadn’t spoken to Andrew Snow. She looked frozen, staring out the window. As for Andrew Snow, he seemed to find his hands extremely interesting, because he didn’t raise his head once.
