The boy literally cringed away from my buddy- type arm.
One six-year-old boy cringed when the dried blood on the wood floor crackled under his feet.
The boy cringed back into the gloom of the hut, which was filled with dry bones, aborted sheep fetuses, and pig bladders stuffed with odd ointments.
The popular boys cringe but don't say anything.
But Mr. Bohlen remained where he was with Doreen Anderton, interlinked with her in a fashion that made the boy cringe with concern.
The boy cringed.
The boy waited beside the hedge, silent, staring at his grandfather, and cringed when refusal hardened the old man's face.
The boy cringed away.
The boy cringed back against the edge of the door, his slack mouth hanging open.
A boy of twelve or so, wearing scruffy jeans and a faded T-shirt, cringed, afraid Sweet would hit him.
