Chapter 5: A Violation of Policy
The word hit me like a slap. Not because he was wrong to be there, but because he had been so thoroughly trained to apologize for the simple, human act of wanting food.
I stepped forward quietly. “You don’t have to say sorry in this house.”
He startled violently, his shoulders hunching up to his ears, his body tensing to retreat. He turned, his face wiped clean of all emotion, a blank mask people wear when they’re bracing for judgment.
“I wasn’t taking anything,” he blurted out, the words a frantic defense.
“I know,” I said gently.
His eyes flicked down. “I just… I didn’t know you had—” He cut himself off, because how do you finish that sentence without it sounding like an accusation? I didn’t know people like you had this much. Or maybe: I didn’t know people could just… have food.
I leaned against the pantry doorframe. “When you grow up counting, it’s hard to stop counting.”
Lucas swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “I’m not used to…” He gestured vaguely at the shelves.
“Food?” I asked, the word too blunt. He flinched.
I corrected myself. “Full shelves,” I said softly.
