“His fingers, frozen in midfidget on his good knee, said PEOPLE AREN'T SUPPOSED TO ASK ME THAT.Either that or I HAVE JUST BEEN SHOT THROUGH THE PAPER SCREEN.He wasn't bleeding.”
“How was your day?” he asked. I faltered, unaccustomed to the question. The look on my face must have been strange because he laughed at me and said, “Okay… don’t tell me then.”Considering the question I asked, “Do people normally want a real answer to that?”I’d only been asked for reports by my father or his team.Julian thought for a moment and shrugged, “I suppose not. Most people say ‘good’ or ‘fine’ even when they don’t mean it.”He mistook my question for simple speculation instead of a lack of understanding. Nodding I snickered and said, “Then it was fine. Yours?”He grinned, “Good.”
“His fingers have been slowly lacing through my hair.”
“Why?” I asked him tiredly. “What would it have changed? What could you possibly have said that would have made a difference?”“That I was your brother, Harry,” he said. “That I loved you. That I knew a few things about denying the dark parts of your nature. And that we would get through it.” He put his elblows on his knees and rested his forehead on his hands. “That we’d figure it out. That you weren’t alone.” Stab.Twist.He was right. It was just that simple.”
“You're not just doing that to impress her, are you?""Everything I do is to impress her. It's my mission in life," he said with a completely serious face, while he squeezed my knee under the table. Mom burst out laughing. "I like him," she said."Me too. I think I'll keep him," I said, taking his hand and twisting my fingers with his. "Good," he said, giving my hand a squeeze.”
“It can't be supposed," said Joe. "Tho' I'm oncommon fond of reading, too."Are you, Joe?"Oncommon. Give me," said Joe, "a good book, or a good newspaper, and sit me down afore a good fire, and I ask no better. Lord!" he continued, after rubbing his knees a little, "when you do come to a J and a O, and says you, 'Here, at last, is a J-O, Joe,' how interesting reading is!”