He’s right. I’ve only stepped foot in a church a couple times in my life. One time to use the bathroom. Another time to steal some candles, but I chickened out at the last minute.
“What am I supposed to do now?” I ask, still kneeling on the floor. “Just give up and put on the guard’s uniform?”
“No.” Vern helps me to my feet. “There’s no uniform for you, kid. You’re not dead, yet.”
I frown. “Yes I am.”
“No you’re not.”
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