“Uh… talking?” I whisper. “Whisper.” “Secret.” “Best friends.” He notices I’m no longer smiling. “What’s wrong?” “Um, it’s just kind of hard to come up with a word from that, I guess. I don’t have any best friends,” I explain. Ambrose turns back to the enclosure, smirking to himself like he’s in on some secret. He tears a blank page from his notepad and pulls an extra pencil from his pocket before handing it to me. “For now.”
