Don't be late. I hate late. I won't be late, Mia said. And she wouldn't. That was the thing about Mia Callaway.
She didn't say things she didn't mean. It was the trait she'd inherited from Rey, though neither of them would have named it as inheritance. It just was. She was almost at the front entrance when Garrett Wind stepped out from the side hallway, not blocking her path, just appearing. Timing that could have been coincident.
Probably wasn't. He was with one other person this time, a boy named, she would later learn, Marcus Webb, a running back, second string, who seemed to exist primarily as an audience for Garrett. Garrett looked at Mia with the same even expression as before. "You're in Coach Burch's class today? " he asked. "I have a meeting with Coach Burch," Mia said.
Calm, precise. I already had it. You trying out for cheer? Open practice Thursday. Yes.
He looked at her for a moment. Something about the look wasn't aggressive. It was more like sizing up. Like he was measuring something. It's a competitive team.
He said, "Good. " Mia said that seemed to catch him slightly off balance. He'd expected something else. Nervousness maybe or enthusiasm that he could deflate. It's been the same group for a while. He said they don't usually take people in midyear.
Coach Burch invited me to open practice. Mia said, "So, I'm to go to open practice. " She held his gaze for exactly as long as felt right. Not challenging, just steady. Then she said, "Have a good afternoon. " And walked out the front door. She heard Marcus say something behind her.
Something she didn't catch. Heard Garrett say nothing in return. She walked to the pickup truck where Ry was waiting, got in, put on her seat belt. "How was it? " Ry asked. "Educational," she said.
Ry glanced at her for something in her face that she wasn't saying out loud. He'd always been able to do that. Good educational or bad educational? He asked. Both, she said.
He nodded and pulled out of the lot. 3 days into that first week, Ry developed a habit. 6:30 every morning. Dot's place. One cup of coffee black.
Sometimes eggs. Always the corner booth. He didn't plan it as a habit. Became one the way habits usually do. Through repetition that solves something.