"We are both harder. Older than we should have to be," he says. "We live in a world that hardens people," I remind him. "We are like callused feet. If we walked through life with smooth skin, we'd tear apart our flesh. We need the hardness to survive." "Since when did thirteen-year-olds get this wise?" he asks, smiling. The smile fades quickly. He kisses the top of my head and stands. "You're right. It's necessary. I just hope it's worth it."
