That'll do it. Doctor says I need to stay off it. And are you? No. Then your doctor must love you. Walter laughed again.
The bus arrived with a long hiss of breaks. They boarded together. Rain began tapping against the windows halfway to Jefferson Heights. When Walter got off three stops before Maya, she stepped off, too. You're going the wrong way, he said.
I'll walk. You don't need to carry these. I know. The rain strengthened. They crossed a slick intersection beneath the glow of a pharmacy sign.
Walter's grocery bag began to tear near the bottom. Mia caught it before two cans fell through. "Good reflexes," he said. Maya smiled. "Lucky."
Walter gave her a strange look. Then his eyes dropped toward the worn black sports bag at her side. The silver heron patch flashed briefly beneath the streetlight. Walter's expression changed only for a moment. Maya noticed.
You okay? Walter looked away. Fine. He hesitated, then nodded toward the bag. Old thing.
My dad's. Walter's gaze returned to the silver bird. Your father from around here? He was. What was his name?
Before Maya could answer, a horn sounded behind them. A delivery truck was waiting to turn. Walter stepped aside. Another time, he said. Maya helped him to the front steps of a narrow brick apartment building.
You sure you're good? I've been good since before you were born. You said that about the groceries, too. Walter grinned. Go home.
Maya started back toward the bus line. At the corner, she looked over her shoulder. Walter was still standing beneath the awning, still watching the silver heron bag. Across town, Tyler Whitmore sat in a booth at an upscale coffee shop near Riverton. Mason dropped into the seat opposite him.
Evan followed. Evan placed his phone on the table. On the screen was a short video from orientation. Maya's face appeared. Tyler's voice came through the speaker.
If you need help finding financial aid, that's downstairs. Then Maya, I'm where I'm supposed to be. Mason laughed. Post it. Tyler did not laugh.
He replayed the clip. Once, twice, then he looked at Evan. Not yet. Evan frowned. Why?
Tyler leaned back. Because she doesn't care enough yet. Mason smirked. So, so we teach her. Outside, rain stre down the coffee shop window, turning headlights into long yellow lines.
Tyler tapped Mia's frozen image on the screen. She wants to act like none of this matters. His smile returned. Cold, controlled. Let's see how long that lasts.