Lisa lay on the sofa, crying for a long time. Was this her fault? Had she given him some sign? Encouraged him in some way? It was true she had thought he was cute. Did he somehow sense that and take it as some kind of an invitation to do what he did?
Mr. O’Hara said not a word about her swollen red eyes and her messy hair. He started by naming the individual pieces on the board for her and telling her how each one moved.