Evan’s face changed.
“Don’t.”
Mr. Alvarez ignored him.
“You know how many paychecks he’s actually kept in six months?”
I waited.
“One.”
I thought I’d misheard.
“One?”
“The first.”
I turned slowly toward Evan.
“Where did the rest go?”
“Mom.”
“Where?”
He looked away.
That silence frightened me more than the broken dishes.
Evan had wanted that bike for almost a year.
I could still remember him showing me the listing.
I had offered to help buy it.
He had refused.
“I want to earn it.”
Now I realized he had earned enough for it long ago.
Probably several times over.
Yet he had no bike.
And apparently almost no money.
I stepped closer.
“Tell me.”
“It is my money.”
“Yes.”
“And I can do what I want with it.”
“You are thirteen.”
“That doesn’t mean you get to know everything.”
Normally, I would have agreed that he deserved some privacy.
