“So, tell me how you and Johnny know each other,” she asked. “Are you in the same class? How did you make friends with each other?” “Uh, no, I’m in third year,” I replied, shifting in my seat. “Really?” Mrs. Kavanagh’s eyes widened. “I thought you were much older.” I beamed at the compliment—at least I was taking it as a compliment. It wasn’t often someone mistook me for being older than what I was. “I’m sixteen. I should be in fourth year,” I explained, delighted with myself for coming across as older. “But I was held back in primary school.” “So was Johnny,” Mrs. Kavanagh told me with warm
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