“Jace, get up.” Caron Wynne jostled her son’s shoulder. “Get up. We gotta go.”
Her son, a husky eleven years old, pulled his bare shoulder from her grip, grumbled, and rolled away.
“Jace! Up, now!” Frantic, she closed her eyes a split second and threw out a shaking hand. The ceiling light came on, illuminating the small bedroom.
His things were everywhere.
…
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