I knew that he knew that there was more to my story than what I’d already told him. And suddenly I was really, really tired. Not of talking to him, but of not talking to him. I was tired of all the games I’d been playing, and of holding back. Maybe realizing how much I wanted Amanda to believe that I was okay is what did it. Maybe it was Sadie being dead, or Rankin being gone. I don’t really know. But I knew I was ready to talk. I sat down. “Okay,” I said. “Where should I start?” “Where every good story starts,” said Cat Poop. “At the beginning.”
