33 <5> LUCY MAKES A FRIEND English class was a sleepy affair, made sleepier by the fact that the school year was drawing to a close. It was a precious thing, a beautiful cabochon—do you know what that is?” “What’s a cabochon?” “It’s a precious jewel that doesn’t have facets yet. The hymnal lyrics had never stirred her; she had memorized and sung them parrotwise. But tell her this, too. But the twins were so fucked over at that point they were zombies. Lucy crouched by the side of the grave, her head in her hands, rocking back and forth. He listened. Do have some tea, won’t you? If you must, go then. Several people were passed out on the sectional sofa, and muffled noises emanated from other rooms indicating that the party’s embers were still smoldering, but John was nowhere to be seen. Shortly to be executed.
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