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Summary
“You’re more useful than you realize,” Mencken says slowly, and—of all people—Roman thinks of Dad, of the time Dad praised him for making that deal with Mom. Good kid. He may never get that praise again. Roman swallows.
Mencken looks down, directly at Roman’s crotch area. He smiles slowly. Roman wants to dissolve into a thousand pieces, never be seen again.
“It isn’t…” Roman crosses his arms over his chest, makes himself smaller. His whole body’s on fire, primed to run. “I’m not—this isn’t—”
“What?” A bark-laugh from Mencken. “You scared, huh.”
An observation, not a question. Roman shrinks back into the wall, thinks about Turkey: the games he’d played with Laird and Karl, convinced they were going to die. I spy something that begins with M…