“He sent you a guitar?” “Two months after my birthday.” I frown, not remembering one in their house, but before I can ask more, he explains. “Mam had to throw it out because it broke,” he tells me. And then, “I broke it.” “On purpose?” Another nod. “I said I dropped it by mistake, but I didn’t. Mam went to the shops, and I threw it down the stairs. Twice.”
Preppy
