“People,” she says simply. “Being around them. Dealing with them. Letting them in.”
She glances down at her plate, like she’s weighing how much to say.
“He didn’t exactly have a…healthy home environment.”
“What does that mean?”
Lou hesitates. Her gaze flicks past me, scanning the room before returning.
“A lot of us grew up together. Since we were kids, our parents all knew each other.”
She has my full attention now.
This is it.
One of the patterns I picked up on while learning about this place, the same families. The same names. The same faces. Men in tailored suits shaking hands, their perfectly dressed children posed behind them like dolls. I have the pictures, the files, in my backpackupstairs.
“There were always parties,” Lou continues. “Dinners, events. We’d all be there.” A small pause. “But Carrson’s father would leave him at home. Like he forgot about him.”
My chest gives a twinge at that. Carrson alone.
“And when Carrson did show up…” The hint of a smile touches her lips, but it fades almost immediately. “He was a wild thing. Half feral.”
She lets out a sigh.
“He didn’t know how to play,” she says. “Everything was a competition. He had to win.” She trails off, then shrugs lightly. “It didn’t matter who got hurt.”
I can picture it.
The other boys already paired off. Choosing each other. Leaving him out.
“He didn’t fit,” she adds quietly. “And his father…” Lou’s voice becomes more careful now. “He was hard on him. Very focused on discipline.” She pauses. “Carrson, he wasn’t raised to be normal or to get along with people,” she adds quietly. “He was raised to be in control.”
There’s more there. I can hear it in what she’s not saying, in the space she leaves around it, but I can only guess at what it is. How deep it goes.
“I get that,” I say, responding before I can think better of it.
Her brow lifts.
“I was homeschooled,” I add. “My sister was sick a lot. Hospitals, treatments. It was easier to stay home.” I glance around the room, at the noise, the laughter. “You don’t really learn how to do this.”
I gesture lightly.
“Be around people.”
Lou watches me.
“You learn how to be quiet,” I say. “How to stay out of the way.”
How to make yourself small.
Lou nods, her mouth softening at the corners. “Then you probably understand him better than most.”
I study her closely. She comes across as simple. Open. Friendly.
I don’t buy it.
You don’t get to where she is, don’t have people orbiting you, deferential, attentive, by being the good guy.
