Epilogue Five months later
"Are you sure you don't need a hand?"
The residential advisor was giving her a skeptical look again. Coraline figured this was justified, seeing as how she was still on crutches and he'd just lugged five cardboard boxes of her stuff up two flights of stairs for her, but she really did want to unpack for herself. For one thing, she liked to know where things were. And for another, doing stuff for herself was surprisingly fun these days.
"I think I've got it covered from here," she said cheerfully, holding up the gripper claw Wybie had thoughtfully put together for her and clacking its metal fingers together. "But thanks for helping!"
"Sure," he said, blowing a strand of dark hair out of his eyes. He looked kind of relieved. Coraline couldn't blame him for that, either. "But, uh, Caroline?"
"Coraline," she corrected him, automatically.
"Right," he said, and turned to go. "Call me if you want anything, okay? That's my job."