I watched her.
“Why did you bring food?”
“Because children get hungry at inconvenient times.”
I almost cried.
Apparently that was what happened when your nervous system had been functioning on fear and caffeine for too long.
Marisol saw my face.
“Oh, Elena.”
“I’m fine.”
“No one who says that while crying over string cheese is fine.”
I laughed through the tears.
She sat beside me.
“Tell me.”
So I did.
Not everything.
Not the financial details I barely understood.
But enough.
The photograph.
Northbridge.
Ethan.
Adrian.
Claire.
Seat 14B.
When I finished, Marisol leaned back slowly.
“Well.”
“That’s all you have?”
“I’m deciding whether your life is a mystery novel or a very complicated tax audit.”
“Helpful.”
“I try.”
Then she took my hand.
“What do you believe?”
I looked at her.
“No one has asked me that.”
“Then everyone is doing this wrong.”
