“M-my head,” Carey said softly cupping his hand over the sore spot. “I-I hit-t m-my head,” he said sniffling and shaking, scared with adrenaline pumping through his veins. “I. . . I-I c-can’t h-hate him,” he said after a moment. “I-I t-tried an-an-and I-I c-can’t-t. He-he hat-tes m-me though, d-doesn’t-t he?” The stress of the situation was getting to him and his insides were all twisted and turned around. Even after just getting tossed like a rag doll and telling himself his mother was right. . . He still wanted to be Robin’s friend.