A man like him couldn't possibly understand the weight of poverty, of having no skills to offer the world. "I can't look after him alone." He leans back, eyes like blue diamonds, flashing seriously at me. "I have already confirmed that you will be looked after. I don't make idle comments." My heart grows, but I want to take a pin to it, to deflate the hopeful naivety with which it expands. My head hasn't forgotten the past eighteen years of lackless offerings turned betrayal. "By you?" "Yes." "But what about my dad?" His eyes narrow. "As far as I'm concerned, I'm your everything. Your teacher.
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