My scars. She’s seen them. Heat makes its way up my chest and neck, embarrassment and shame taking over. “That boy is something special,” she whispers. “That was a beautiful thing he did, shielding you and your family like that.” My eyes fly to hers, and she gives a small smile. “What are you talking about?” She points to my arms. “The wraps,” she whispers. “I put them on myself. It’s not something we would have considered, not even something that we’d have thought about in that manner, but the second your family was informed they’d be able to see you … that boy asked us to cover them for you.
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