“You’re twelve,” he panted, climbing into the tree house. “You’re supposed to be a sweet child, not a little monster.” “If I was sweet, you might try and eat me,” Tadhg shot back. “And you’ve clearly eaten enough.” “For the last time, I am not fat,” Gibsie growled. “I’m big-boned. There’s a huge difference.” “Huge,” Tadhg scoffed, clearly enjoying the banter. “You’ve got that right.”
