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Okay, not exactly enlightening. As much as she wanted to turn towards Lenore and share an eye roll, she kept her attention focused on the belligerent teen. ‘What’s your routine when you get home from school—when you were going to school?’

Owen heaved out a sigh. ‘Helping around the farm, moving the cows, fixing fences, cutting down trees … all the usual shit.’

‘So you don’t like farm work?’

‘Not when I have to do it twenty-four-seven.’

‘Who says you have to do that?’

‘Dad. He’s always on at me to get off my arse and help around the place. Mum backs him up. It’s like living in a concentration camp.’

Nothing like a teenager for amping up the drama with some good old-fashioned exaggeration. ‘And you feel it’s unreasonable to be asked to do so many chores around the place?’

‘I don’t get time to do any of the things I want to do. Even on weekends, they have me working like a dog.’

‘What would you like to be doing instead?’

‘Riding my motorbike.’

‘You have a bike?’

‘An off-roader. I’ve been riding since I was a kid. Used to race until I had an accident and bunged up my knee. It’s fine now though. I could be doing it again but the olds won’t let me.’

Ah, now they were getting somewhere. ‘Perhaps they’re worried you’re going to hurt yourself again.’

‘S’pose.’

‘Have you tried talking to them about it? Explained how important it is to you?’

‘No point. Dad just starts yelling and Mum backs him up every time. They said when I turn eighteen and I’m officially an adult I can do what I like but until then they’re not going to let me put myself in so much danger.’

‘Do you think it’s dangerous?’

‘Can be. But my accident wasn’t even my fault. And it wasn’t that bad. Only that my bike was trashed.’

‘So you don’t have one to ride now?’

A sorry shake of his head. ‘They said I could work around the farm and save up for one for when I’m older, but that’s bullshit. Dad never even pays me for all the shit I do. It’s slave labour.’

‘Do you miss riding?’

A glassy look came over Owen’s eyes. He shuffled down deeper in his seat and jammed his hands further into the pockets of his hoodie. ‘A bit.’

Based on his body language, it was more like a lot. The boy was storing up so much anger and resentment she could almost see it seeping out his pores. Definitely something to explore in more detail.

‘Tell me about school? What don’t you like about it?’ Truancy had been a huge part of Owen getting into trouble, giving him a lot of free time to spend hanging out with a few older mates, and others like him who’d decided education was a waste of time.

‘Too many people telling me what to do.’

‘Like teachers, you mean?’

A nod. ‘And the principal. A total dickhead.’

Having met Principal Morrissey a few times now, Owen’s assessment of him wasn’t far off the mark. ‘But he and the staff are just doing their jobs, right?’

‘Doesn’t mean they can yell at you and order you around all the time.’

‘So that’s why you want to leave?’