Aunt Sophia is bent over the oven when I walk in the kitchen. She shuts the door, tosses a dishcloth on the counter, and takes a big swallow from a plastic cup by the sink. Then she spots me in the doorway.
“How was your first day?” Her voice is talk-show-host bright.
“Great,” I tell her and dump the pile of books on the counter so I can open the refrigerator.
“Any teachers you like?”
I take a swallow from the liter bottle and catch Aunt Sophia’s eye. She makes a face and pulls a glass out of the cabinet and hands it to me.
“They’re okay.” We’re not talking about what I want to talk about. Whether she knew Angela was getting out and why she didn’t tell me.
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