“It’s not okay,” I argue. “You can yell at me, if you want. You should yell at me.” “Oh, I am not this kind of person who yells,” he says, and I huff a small laugh. “I wanted to hear your voice and talk about your summer. I did not call looking for a fight.” “No, you wouldn’t, I suppose,” I muse. “I really got lucky the day Dr. Robertson assigned us to be partners.” “That is funny, Atlas, because I am thinking that I was the lucky one.”
