Chapter 13: Fighting It

FREDRICK'S POV

I walk slowly with my hands in my pockets, fully set on keeping my uncontrollable toy soldier from committing any atrocity as I reach the entrance. I open the door slowly, praying she isn’t there so I can run back to my room and hide until Joan returns.

I poke my head out—and sure enough, she’s seated on the bench in the front porch, patiently waiting. I grit my teeth and sigh deeply.

What is so important that she has to see me when Joan ...