“I don’t need Hoss,” Tucker interrupted. “Just June.” She was completely silenced, absorbing his meaning. That first day, he’d stood in the Smith Library and given her the clean, cool facts of the upcoming detention, somehow correctly guessing she was someone who didn’t need life sugarcoated, even if she was always shaking sugar out for everyone else. And today, he guessed that sugarcoating cost her something, and offered her the ability to talk for free. Every interaction has a social cost, Mr. Francis had said. But what if some didn’t? Tucker said, “You don’t have to polish the bullets for
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