Sure, I’m high on endorphins, which is why I use the real word, bullying. But it’s not just hormones speaking. It’s the truth pushing its way out: I will not bully Glenn Semple anymore. By telling him, I make it truer.

No such word. True is true.

The wary look comes my way. “Why?”

Because his father offered me a freebie? Because I looked deep into Igor’s eyes and all I saw was sadness? Or is it because those pennies and nickels clinking in the dust made me feel lower than bilge?

“Doesn’t matter why.”

He flicks a quick punch to my chest. Instantly I drop into front stance, fingers and thumb folded into a fist that’s headed straight for him.

No contact! screams through my brain. The fist stops in midair.

I drop my arm. He can’t stop his second punch, which jars my ribs. This time I stand still, breathing hard, nails digging into my palms.

“Guess what, Igor?” he says. “Brick’s reformed. Can we believe him?”

“It’s true!” First time I’ve admitted to being a bully and he’s giving me a hard time?

“Hang out the balloons. Bring on the brass band. But let’s wait six months, just to be sure.”

I’m itching to slap him up the side of the head, and maybe it shows. He takes a step back, bouncing on the gravel like he’s a boxer, his fists jabbing the air.

While Horton was hatching the egg, he had this annoying habit of insisting he would never, ever, break his word. If Horton can stay the course, so can I. I swipe rain and sweat from my forehead, turn my back on Glenn and Igor, and start jogging down the road.

Tully is pedaling her bike toward us, top speed. I’m not in the mood for Tully Langille. Eyes front, mentally blocking my ears, I run faster.

She flashes past me.

A couple of minutes later, I look back. Tully and Glenn are facing each other, and even through the raindrops I can see they’re arguing. I run faster, reach our driveway, and race past the tattered spruce trees and the chunks of granite.

When I lie, people believe me; when I tell the truth, they don’t.

9.1 [white knight III]

CASSIE AND I spend the afternoon in town at the library and the mall. Back at the house, she wants chicken fingers for supper, so that’s what I cook, along with egg noodles, frozen corn, and raw carrots—is this health food or what? Dirty dishes are piled in the sink, because Floyd and Opal ate home for once. Floyd’s in the living room working on a jigsaw; Opal had an appointment in Collings Head, so she’s gone.

After I daub the batter with sweet-and-sour sauce and squirt ketchup all over, Cassie decides she wants to eat in her room.