The smile shifts, turning even more wan than before but less polite. More honest, more vulnerable, with a momentary tremour in her bottom lip. She's always liked Mr Barton, both times he's been around. He's solid in ways that remind her of home, not just physically but in his air. Looks and manner can be deceiving, but right now, it's nice.

Which might explain why she suddenly blurts out, "I just.... I never heard anythin' like that 'fore. My stepfather once talked about tornadoes in America but he was from California so never even seen one, either. I've lived through some awful bad storms that made me think the walls might come it, but they never actually did."

She doesn't want to look at the schoolhouse. She will, later, a few days later, maybe. But she doesn't want to.