Not now.
“When your employer calls me because you’re fighting an adult over your entire paycheck, the privacy rules change.”
Then I noticed his backpack.
It had fallen open when the bus tub overturned.
Several envelopes had spilled out.
So had a folded city bus map.
I bent down.
Evan moved instantly.
“Mom, don’t.”
I looked at him.
That response guaranteed I was going to.
I unfolded the map across a table.
Red circles covered it.
Six.
Maybe seven.
Beside the circles were handwritten notes.
TIRES.
MR T.
HAIRCUT.
STORE LADY.
One address had been crossed out several times and rewritten farther down the street.
Beside two locations were dollar amounts.
$180.
$65.
I stared at the map.
Then at Evan.
“What is this?”
“Nothing.”
Cal made an irritated noise.
“There’s that word again.”
I pointed toward the first circle.
“TIRES?”
Evan said nothing.
Cal answered.
“The tire shop on Mason.”