Chapter 62

• I pick at my tray of food in the mess hall, pushing my salad around, completely distracted. Counting down
• the minutes before I can head upstairs, already on edge, unable to think about anything else despite telling myself I’m only making it worse. My nerves are already shot.
• Meadow keeps her distance and sits down at the far end of the long table because she knows she won’t hold it in if we sit close. She isn’t doing a great job of acting naturally either, and I can almost taste her tension waving this way. I catch her eyes on me a couple of times, but she looks away quickly, as though we’ve had some sort of lover’s tiff, and I wish she would stop before someone picks up on it. I think she’s why I’m on such high alert because she’s adding to my stress levels.