Nia looked toward the front window. Do you think Ryan wrote them? Maybe, Charles. Naomi shook her head. We don't know enough.
You You keep saying that because we don't. Nia leaned forward. What do you think? Naomi looked down at the packet. I think Ryan has help.
The answer made both sisters quiet. Near closing time, Denise sent them home with containers of soup. The rain had eased to a mist. Jefferson Heights smelled of wet brick, exhaust, and fried onions from a takeout place down the block. At the bus stop, Nia tucked her hands into her coat.
You know what bothers me most? Naomi waited. If Ryan hated us, fine. Naomi looked at her. Nia shrugged.
At least hate is honest. Naomi understood. This was different. This was somebody smiling while creating paperwork. Somebody turning prejudice into procedure.
The bus arrived with a hiss. They climbed aboard. The next morning at Riverton, Naomi carried the conduct packet inside her gym bag. She had already sent Professor Brooks copies of their class attendance and emailed herself photographs of the volunteer board. Not enough to solve anything, enough to begin.
After anatomy, Naomi took the service hallway toward the athletic center because it was quieter than the main concourse. Walter Hayes was near a storage al cove checking boxes against a clipboard. His left knee looked stiff. Naomi slowed. You doing better?
Walter glanced up. Depends who's asking. The person who told you to take it easy then no. Terrible. Absolutely tragic.
Naomi smiled. You're impossible. Been told. She started to pass. Her gym bag brushed against her hip.
The bronze heron struck the metal zipper pull with a small click. Walter's eyes dropped. This time he saw it clearly. His joking expression disappeared. Naomi took two more steps before realizing he had stopped speaking.
She turned. Walter was staring at the pin, not casually. Recognition had changed his whole face. Where did you get that? Naomi touched the bronze bird.
This? Walter nodded. My father's. For a second, he seemed to forget the clipboard in his hand. What was his name?
Naomi felt something tighten in her chest. Marcus. Walter's eyes lifted sharply to hers. Marcus what? Behind Naomi, footsteps echoed at the far end of the hall.
Students moved past without looking. Walter stepped closer. His voice dropped. Was your father's name Marcus Carter? Naomi did not answer immediately because Walter Hayes was no longer looking at her like a maintenance supervisor making conversation.
He was looking at her like a door from the past had just opened in front of him. Naomi's hand closed around the bronze pin. "Yes," she said. Marcus Carter was my father. Walter lowered the clipboard for several seconds.
The service hallway disappeared from his face. The cinder block walls, the fluorescent lights, the carts stacked with folded towels. All of it seemed to fall away. What about your sister, Nia? Your twins?