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Teresa
rolled
her
eyes
.
"
That
's
your
name
,
is
n't
it
?
"
"
Yeah
,
but
most
people
call
me
Thomas
.
Well
,
except
Newt
--
he
calls
me
Tommy
.
Tom
makes
me
feel
...
like
I
'm
at
home
or
something
.
Even
though
I
do
n't
know
what
home
is
.
"
He
let
out
a
bitter
laugh
.
"
Are
we
messed
up
or
what
?
"
She
smiled
for
the
first
time
,
and
he
almost
had
to
look
away
,
as
if
something
that
nice
did
n't
belong
in
such
a
glum
and
gray
place
,
as
if
he
had
no
right
to
look
at
her
expression
.
"
Yeah
,
we
're
messed
up
,
"
she
said
.
"
And
I
'm
scared
.
"
"
So
am
I
,
trust
me
.
"
Which
was
definitely
the
understatement
of
the
day
.
A
long
moment
passed
,
both
of
them
looking
toward
the
ground
.
"
What
's
...
,
"
he
began
,
not
sure
how
to
ask
it
.
"
How
...
did
you
talk
to
me
inside
my
mind
?
"
Teresa
shook
her
head
.
No
idea
--
I
can
just
do
it
,
she
thought
to
him
.
Then
she
spoke
aloud
again
.
"
It
's
like
if
you
tried
to
ride
a
bicycle
here
--
if
they
had
one
.
I
bet
you
could
do
it
without
thinking
.
But
do
you
remember
learning
to
ride
one
?
"
"
No
.
I
mean
...
I
remember
riding
one
,
but
not
learning
.
"
He
paused
,
feeling
a
wave
of
sadness
.
"
Or
who
taught
me
.
"
