“I know you probably don’t want to talk about it, but do those kids pick on you a lot?” He stared at the dirt, unmoving, his elbows resting on his knees. I waited again, leaving the ball in his court. I wanted to say something else—let him know he could tell me—but I also knew if I just stayed quiet, he might speak up. “Yeah,” he said finally. Fuck. “Your mom and Jack know about that?” “Not really.” “Why not?” “It’s not like they can do anything.” “Sure they can.” He looked up, his eyes fiery. “What? Anytime something happens at school, they just have a meeting. It doesn’t change anything.”
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