A Thousand Perfect Notes(61)

Avery frowns but turns the light off.

Sam’s lost his night vision now. His ears strain, but doesn’t catch any movement or whispers. Or sirens. He’s not caught.

‘I could get you a phone.’ Avery rocks on his heels. ‘That would fix everything.’

Of course it would, Avery. A phone would fix the fact that Sam is a house thief in clothes he stole from a bin at a second-hand store, who needed a haircut months ago, with skin tight against his ribs like a tally of all the meals he’s missed.

His fingers curl into fists. Sticky with blood. It’s all bluff anyway because he’d never hit Avery. In fact it’s the opposite. Sam spends his life hitting the world and smoothing over the rusty corners so Avery won’t fall and hurt himself.

‘I wouldn’t need you to fix stuff,’ Sam says, the barest frustrated tremble in his voice, ‘if you’d stop ruining everything.’