He raises both brows. "It fits," he repeats, his harsh tone confusing me.
"Try the boots." He tilts his head toward the other bag, then walks off into his room, closing the door behind him. He doesn’t come back out for some minutes.
"You ready?" he asks, shrugging into his jacket.
I follow him out the door, glad that one pair of the boots actually fit. I shove the gloves he also bought into my coat pockets. Inside the car, I watch as buildings give way to trees. Soon the streetlights become less visible, sparse until they vanish entirely. Roman doesn't seem like he wants to talk, so I keep quiet.
About thirty minutes later, he turns onto a smaller road, then a narrow one. Soon we’re barely on a road at all, just a dirt path winding through trees. Finally, he pulls into a clearing surrounded by darkness.
He turns the engine off. "We'll walk from here."
The cold slaps my face the moment I step out of the car. Roman clicks on a flashlight, its beam breaking the darkness.
We walk a few steps, then I stop. I tilt my head back, gazing up at the sky, cloudless and scattered with stars.
"I can't believe I forgot this.”
A small speck of light slides across the sky in a straight steady line. "What’s that?"
Roman looks up, following my finger. "Satellite. They send signals back to earth. They’re everywhere now.”
"Is that something most people know?"
"I don't know about America, but here, yeah.”
"Oh.” Another thing I don’t know. “Do kids know about satellites?"
He stops so fast I almost bump into him.
"I don’t know what kids know.” He turns to face me. “Why do you care what most people or kids know?
"I just want to know.”
He studies me, his jaw flexing. “What’s this about?”
You wouldn't understand," I mutter, looking away.
"Try me."
I move around him, my throat tight. "You won’t."
His hand closes around my arm, stopping me. "Nala."
My face burns from his touch, despite my embarrassment. "I feel stupid,” I blurt out, the words tumbling from deep inside me before I can stop them. “I got bad grades in school. That’s why I had to go to that dumb private school and…” I clench my teeth, pushing the memory of what started this all. “I didn’t understand things as fast as the other kids did and it’s worse now. Everyone my age knows about satellites and everything else. Even little kids know more than I do. I only got to the sixth grade. I’m an idiot and I hate it.”
“You’re not stupid and you’re not an idiot.” He looks at me and lets out a low breath. “You just didn't have the same chance as everyone else. We both know whose fault that is.”
“It doesn’t change anything, though.”
“No, it doesn’t,” he agrees. “That part’s on you. You adapt and move on.”
“How does a person move on from horrible things that happened to them?”
“For one, you need to accept that you’re alive. Then you need to decide if you want to stay alive and get things done.”
"Is that how you do it?”
Roman nods. “I set goals and I make plans. I don’t let anyone get in my way. I accept, adapt, and move on.”
