SLOANE'S POINT OF VIEW.

She walked ahead of me into the arts room, before turning so abruptly that I almost reeled back in shock. She looked at me with sharp eyes filled with what looked like concern and sympathy.

I stepped toward her, but she didn’t move right away. Instead, her eyes met mine in a way that made my skin prickle; not with fear, but rather with the sense that she was weighing me out, and measuring something I couldn’t see.

When she finally spoke again, her voice dropped low, ...