Arnold Simmons was nothing more than a burden too.
It seed like many people resisted him, feared him, looked at him with either disgust or fear.
Just like in a bustling street corner, when spotting a dying wolf cub, there would always be soone worried about getting bitten.
But it didn’t matter, she was not afraid of him.
The rain outside had stopped, but the sky was still gloomy.
It was almost noon.
Arnold Simmons walked Hannah to the entrance of the residential area, passing by the guard room where they once again t the grandfather on duty that night.
The grandfather, wearing presbyopic glasses, despite his age, had a good mory. He himself lived in this residential area, and worked as a security guard to keep himself busy.
He knew and rembered most of the residents who ca in and out of the community.
The grandfather turned down the radio volu a little and chuckled, "Hannah is back."
There were quite a few students from the number one school living in the community, and the grandfather knew each one of them.
Hannah nodded politely, greeting, "Hello, Grandpa Yummy."
The grandfather smiled and nodded, then turned his gaze towards Arnold Simmons, "Young man, you finally aren’t standing alone at the entrance today?"
"Standing at the entrance?"
Hannah looked up at Arnold Simmons.
Arnold Simmons reached out to put the hood of her jacket on, and patted her head, "It’s nothing, the grandfather got the wrong person."
"Young man, how could I possibly recognize the wrong person? It was clearly you here that night..."
"Grandpa, we have to go now, you continue reading the newspaper." After that, Arnold Simmons quickly pulled Hannah into the community.
He shouldn’t have softened his heart and brought her into the residential area today.
It wasn’t even night ti, and a nearly eighteen-year-old girl surely knew how to cross the street, what was he really worried about?
Arnold Simmons walked her to the building downstairs, and to avoid being recognized like earlier, he also put on the hood of his jacket. The hood was slightly large, casting a shadow that nearly covered half of his face.
He handed the schoolbag over, "Alright, I’ve walked you here, I’m leaving now."
"About the incident just now?" Hannah looked at him, tilting her head.
Arnold Simmons avoided her gaze, "The grandfather recognized the wrong person just now."
Hannah didn’t expose his lie, nor did she take the schoolbag he was handing her, "This is for you."
They stood under a large tree downstairs, a quiet corner, and when soone nearby passed by, probably hearing their voices, they glanced over.
It was a student from the number one school.
Probably a sophomore.
Arnold Simmons slightly shifted, completely shielding Hannah, and smiled, "What’s for ? A schoolbag?"
"The schoolbag is for you," Hannah said, "But the howork inside is yours too."
She smiled brightly, but Arnold Simmons still sensed her ulterior motive.
It was just to get him to do his howork.
In front of Hannah, Arnold Simmons couldn’t be impatient or aloof like he was with others; he had to negotiate, fearing she would cry,
"Can I not do it?"
From the ti he was at the number one school, he had never done any howork; every ti assignnts were handed out, they either ended up stuffed in a drawer or given to classmates who had lost theirs, he couldn’t be bothered to even write his na.
Hannah shook her head seriously, an earnest and serious expression, "No, I’ve even written your na for you."
Arnold Simmons lightly clicked his tongue, his voice casual and light, looking into Hannah’s eyes, he suddenly said, "What if I don’t do it? What will you do?"
What would she do?
Hannah paused, probably nothing?
"Would you cry?" Arnold Simmons suddenly asked.
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