I stared at the door, but my mind uncontrollably drifted back to something long ago.The winter I was eight, Mom brought a boy home.He wore an ill-fitting black coat, and his hair covered most of his face.Mom crouched beside me and said, "Hannah, this is Mason. He'll be living with us from now on."I skipped over, took his hand, and looked up at him."Hi, Mason. I'm Hannah Whitaker."His hand stiffened, then pulled away.Mom sighed and explained that his parents had died in a car accident and gone somewhere very far away, so he would be living with us.Later, I secretly went to knock on his door."Mason, I'll give you half my strawberry cake. Please don't be sad, okay?"The door didn't open, but I heard muffled crying from beneath his blankets.From that day on, I followed him around like a little shadow.At first he ignored me. Eventually, he got used to me.But he never smiled, and he never said anything sweet.Still, if a boy in class pulled my braid, that boy would
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