I knew it.
He hadn't been there since the winter after Jeremy's death.
I folded the map.
“Take your backpack.”
Evan's eyes opened wide.
“Why?”
“Let’s go to the shuttle.”
“No.”
“Evan.”
“Mom, please.”
That “please” sounded different.
It's not stubborn.
Scared.
“What am I going to find there?” I asked insistently.
Evan swallowed and stared at the windows.
“Nothing.”
Cal denied with his head.
“There it is again.”
I handed the check to Mr. Alvarez.
“Can you hold this? Only until we get back.”
“I’ve been trying to convince him to keep it.”
Evan grabbed his backpack.
“I hate you all.”
Cal pointed after him.
“That’s normal, THIRTEEN. Keep that part.”
Evan sat stiff next to me as we drove towards Mason Tire.
I remembered that place clearly.
Jeremy had been out for four months when our old sedan suffered a puncture during a freezing February rain.
I drove to Mason Tire waiting for a simple patch.
Twenty minutes later, the owner told me that another tire was almost smooth.
I could afford a tire.
Not two.
I remembered standing by the counter while 10-year-old Evan drank the hot chocolate someone had given him.
I asked the owner if the second tyre could wait two weeks.
He looked at me.
Then at Evan.
Then he replaced both.
When I told him I couldn't afford the second, he gave me the bill back.
“Then don’t do it today.”
Then I cried in the car.
I hadn't thought about that afternoon in years.
It wasn't until I saw the word SHOOTERs written on the map of Evan.
The same owner was behind the counter when we walked into the store.
Now I was older, and I had more gray hair.
He looked up.
Then his eyes settled on Evan.
“Oh, no.”
Evan stopped.
The man pointed it out.
“You promised me you were done.”
I looked at both of them alternately.
“Did you end up with what?”
Then the owner recognized me and outlined a huge smile.
“Lindsay?”
“Yes.”
He looked at Evan again and closed his eyes.
“Oh, boy.”
Evan spoke quickly.
“I told you not to tell him.”
“I didn’t do it.”
“You’re about to do it.”
The man surrounded the counter.
“Lindsay, a few months ago your son came here with 180 dollars.”
I looked at Evan.
The owner continued.
“He said he owed me a tire.”
