“See you at home, buddy,” Rowan says. “Thanks for the bite.”
“Thanks, Stan. See ya.”
Stanley salutes us, and then we walk out. We drive back to campus in silence, and then before we part ways, Rowan says, “Film tonight.”
I nod. “See you there.”
He goes in one direction. I go the other.
Wednesday goes.
Stats class at ten. I sit in the third row and take notes in the new notebook with my name on the cover, and I circle the wordswhat is the probabilityin every problem on the board. Lunch with Stanley and Blue at the dining hall. Stanley is on a smoothie kick. Blue eats four pieces of pizza. I eat two and a salad.
Film at six. Coach has us watch the first period of Michigan’s exhibition against Bowling Green from last week — Michigan is on our schedule in November and Coach wants us looking at them now. We watch the same play four times. Coach pauses, points, asks me what I see. I answer. He nods. We move on.
I get home a little after eight.
Stanley is making nachos in the kitchen with Walsh. They’re arguing about whether refried beans count as protein. Blue is on the couch eating a banana. Percy is in the corner armchair, reading.
I drop my bag at the door.
“Reeve,” Stanley says, without looking up. “Nachos in fifteen.”
“Make me a plate,” I say, “I’ll be in my room.”
I go up the stairs and close my door behind me. First thing I do is stare at my schedule on the wall. Then I remember I have that text from Madison, so I open my phone and delete it. I don’t want it sitting in my phone, burning a hole in my conscience.
Stanley plows through my bedroom door and drops a mountain of nachos on my desk.
I chuckle, looking at it. “Thanks, man.”
Stanley nods and then slams the door on the way out. It shakes the entire house. I take a bite of the nachos and nod. It tastes fucking delicious.
I open my binder and grab the extra credit I pleaded for. And while I shove down the nachos, I do the assignment, looking forward to Lucy correcting it tomorrow. The goal is to get nothing wrong.
In the middle of trying to figure out a problem, I stare at the notebook she bought for me. I’m well aware that I’m not special, and she said she buys one for all the students she tutors, but I meant what I said that I want to pay her back.
I think I know just the thing. It’s true what they say about kindness going a long way.
Chapter 6
Lucy
Mythousand-dollarcarlovesto pull left, so the whole drive to my mom’s house I’m correcting right just to keep the car straight. It’s an art. I have the radio low and the sun behind me. Groceries fill the passenger seat — granola bars, cereal, milk, Camdend, lunch meat, string cheese. I can’t fully trust that my mom used the money I sent her for the right things.
The first thing I notice when I pull up is the overgrown lawn. Then the gutters. They’re full of leaves from the two trees on the property line. Then the recycling and trash bins are both still at the curb. I roll the bins back to the side of the house and find a bag of trash sitting where they’re supposed to go. I stare at it for a second and wonder if Bear is going to be okay later in life. He’s too young to be starting these bad habits. I throw it in the can.
I grab the groceries and walk inside the house. The living room is dim, curtains drawn, TV on low. Bear is on the couch in his hoodie and sweatpants, playing something on his Switch.
“Hey, Bear.”
He barely looks up. “Mom’s in her room.”
I set the groceries on the kitchen counter and stop Camdenthing from my nose. The house smells like rotten food. The sink tells me why. Five cereal bowls in a row with rotting milk in each. The stove has two oily pans. The trash is overflowing.
“Bear,” I call out, still holding my Camdenth.
He doesn’t look up. “Yeah.”
