with a little sawdust on it.
“Sorry,” he said. “It’s clean. Mostly.”
I laughed. I couldn’t help it.
That’s how it started.
After that, Edward started eating lunch in the library.
He said it was because the teachers’ lounge was too loud. I think it was because of me.
Every day, he’d come in at 11:45 with a paper bag and sit at the table in the back. Sometimes we talked. Sometimes we didn’t. Sometimes he’d bring me half of his sandwich because he said he’d made too much. (He always made too much. Every single day.)
He listened. That was the thing about Edward. He actually listened.
I told him about Max. About the gym and the trainer and the texts. About the night at the kitchen table. About the mirror.
When I told him about the mirror, he set his sandwich down.
“He said that?” Edward said
