NINE
We linger on the balcony long after the discussion ceased, neither one of us wanting to leave. It's nice to be alone in a place other than his room. If I try hard enough, I can pretend we're not at the manor altogether.
I fill the silence with small talk he's more than happy to indulge. The whiskey I drank works its magic on me in no time. I'm not drunk, but I'm relaxed. Under the influence, but not inebriated.
"And," I say, pointing to my chest a second too soon. "I was the best reader out of any Unfortunate in my age group."
As he sits in front of me, he smiles and drags his finger across his lip. He rests his ankle on his knee and holds his whiskey over his shin by the glass's rim. "What kind of books do they read in those camps anyway?"
I shrug. "A bit of everything. Although, the stories were hard to follow as most of them were missing pages. Some of them, whole chapters had been ripped out."
"For what reason?"