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Chapter 29
Tatewaslookingatmesharply.
"Somebodywasstaggerin’aroundandpantin’and—coughingfittodie.IthoughtitwasJematfirst,butitdidn’tsoundlikehim,soIwentlookin’forJemontheground.IthoughtAtticushadcometohelpusandhadgotworeout—"
"Whowasit?"
"Whythereheis,Mr.Tate,hecantellyouhisname."
AsIsaidit,Ihalfpointedtothemaninthecorner,butbroughtmyarmdownquicklylestAtticusreprimandmeforpointing.Itwasimpolitetopoint.
Hewasstillleaningagainstthewall.HehadbeenleaningagainstthewallwhenIcameintotheroom,hisarmsfoldedacrosshischest.AsIpointedhebroughthisarmsdownandpressedthepalmsofhishandsagainstthewall.Theywerewhitehands,sicklywhitehandsthathadneverseenthesun,sowhitetheystoodoutgarishlyagainstthedullcreamwallinthedimlightofJem’sroom.
Ilookedfromhishandstohissand-stainedkhakipants;myeyestraveleduphisthinframetohistorndenimshirt.Hisfacewasaswhiteashishands,butforashadowonhisjuttingchin.Hischeekswerethintohollowness;hismouthwaswide;therewereshallow,almostdelicateindentationsathistemples,andhisgrayeyesweresocolorlessIthoughthewasblind.Hishairwasdeadandthin,almostfeatheryontopofhishead.
WhenIpointedtohimhispalmsslippedslightly,leavinggreasysweatstreaksonthewall,andhehookedhisthumbsinhisbelt
