Re: Cass & Mat: the Quiet Home
Cass didn't have ideas brewing. The percolation was cold, the forced placidity slow as snow in her own mind's eye. But she saw Matilda like a knife-blade, a flick-knife tucked inside a purse, momentarily one thing and then something different.
"Yes," she said, of the principal's office, because the director was, in a way. It was an odd school, one comprised of odds and ends, misfits and the criminals. They never learned, or they learned and they lost what they had known before.
But - society. Cass worked at the diner. She had a small phone which was a thread, a life-line back to a real life. She smiled. Slowly as dawn, as the thought of real freedom, release took root. "Let's." She took the corridors, running on memory of where she had been brought in to begin with, as they headed toward a large office at the back of the building, preceded by doctors' offices.