The very next day after Miss West and I’d talked about her son and missions, she was the same as she’d always been: volatile and unhappy with a hatred that spewed out of her like missiles. I thought I understood why. She must have hated us for being alive when her son was dead.Lately the class has been turning against her. They’re openly hostile, and they whisper plots for revenge. It seems unfair, the way unhappiness flows out of a person, just to ricochet.  “Adam…do you think we have a missions?” He looks at me with a confused expression. “What kind of missions?” “I don’t know. Do you think you have a mission?” I shrug, disappointed. If Adam doesn’t know, then I guess no one does.  A girl turns onto our hall, eyes red and sad, and she passes, Adam sends her a smile. Her whole face brightens and she sends him a smile back.  Hate ricochets, but kindness does too. Page 178.
Robin Roe
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