She asked. Productive, he said. She looked at him a moment, knew there was more and knew he'd tell her what was relevant when when it was relevant. There's chili on the stove, she said. Dot dropped it off earlier.
She said you looked thin. Ray looked toward the stove. I'm not thin, he said. That's what I told her. Mia said, and went back to her homework.
Friday came, the week had been. There wasn't a clean word for it. Hard in specific ways. The school's response to the online had been exactly what Bur had predicted. Conversations, documentation, letters home, no consequences.
The article in the register had generated three cancellations at the garage. One of which Ry suspected was a coincidence and two of which were not agonist. Dot's meeting. Burch's folder. Hector Web's steady, quiet presence.
Calvin Puit's handshake at the end of the evening. The handshake of a working man who had committed to something. The day ended, the garage closed. Ray drove home. Maya was on the back steps again.
Same spot as the week before. Same oak tree. Different quality of quiet. He came and sat beside her. She was looking at her phone.
She turned it over when he sat down. Screen down on the step beside her. Something happened today. She said he waited. Garrett was in the parking lot after practice.
She said not in his usual spot. He was closer. Closer than he needs to be. She paused. And when I came out of the gym, he looked at me, not with the usual thing.
Not the dismissal. Something else. What else? She thought about it like he was making sure I was still there. Like he was checking something.
Ray thought about the car with county plates picking up Garrett after practice. Harrove checking in. Harrove wanting to know if his stepson's work was being effective. You were still there, Ray said. I was still there, Mia said.
She picked up her phone, put it down again. The account posted again. She said, "More of the same. I've reported it twice now. " The platform responded with a generic email. "Screenshotted," he said.