on Sundays, when the mine’s quiet and the soot’s minimal so it smells like fresh air. Ma . . . Sid . . . I don’t expect to sleep, but the day’s been so draining that the movement of the train lulls me into a semiconscious state. A few hours later, I wake with a start and feel someone shaking my leg. “Hay. Hay!” Louella whispers over Wyatt’s snores. I prop myself up on my elbow and squint at her through the dim light. “What’s going on?” “I don’t want Wyatt. I don’t want him for an ally, okay?” “Wyatt? Okay, but can I know why? He looks pretty
Lucy Gray
