Chapter 26 : Rhea Runs Away
The trouble began—like most things involving Rhea—with good intentions and bad execution.
Specifically, her attempt to apologize to the classroom pet she nearly incinerated.
"I brought him grapes," Rhea said proudly, holding out a tiny vine-wrapped fruit platter to the twitchy class bunny named Sergeant Fluffnut. "Grapes are... peace offerings, right?"
"Rhea," I said gently, "he's a rabbit. He doesn't understand diplomacy."
"Then he's the perfect test subject."
The bunny took one look at her outstretched hand, remembered the bloodburst explosion she'd triggered the day before, and bolted under his cage with a squeaky whimper.
Rhea's ears drooped.
"I think he hates me."
That night, she was quieter than usual.
Which, for Rhea, meant she only used three exclamation marks per sentence.
She poked her vegetables. She didn't try to animate her soup. She even turned down bedtime battle reenactments.