“What is it?” Julius asks, coming over. Dread churns through me. He can’t see. I can’t bear the thought of him reading it, of him laughing at me or agreeing or rubbing it in. It’s too humiliating. I’ll die from it. “Nothing,” I say. I block it with my hand, but his eyes fall on my face first, and he glimpses something there that changes his demeanor at once. His gaze sharpens. His shoulders tense. “What is it, Sadie?” he asks again, but in a different way. Lower, more serious. Urgent. I just shake my head, my fingers splayed over the words. But even with them concealed, I can see them as if
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