Millie is not a lawyer. Like she does this job that doesn’t involve words. I think maybe she takes pictures because if she did use her words, she would just eviscerate us all. Like it wouldn’t be fair, is what I’m saying.

“It’s not that I don’t believe, don’t know, that moving here means there’s a ton of not great stuff you have to deal with, Anne. It’s that I’m worried maybe you’ve settled on one way of dealing with it, and really, kiddo, that’s just not going to fly anymore. Not just because we’re living here, by the way. But just in general. It doesn’t solve any of the legit problems you are having to smack someone in the face with lunch.”

She reached over and clicked on the TV, which she likes to watch on mute so she can talk over and about it.

“Okay,” I grumbled, “I get it. I will apologize. To Tanner.”

Millie nodded. “Sounds like something that could actually make things better.”

“Thank you for the life lesson,” I mumbled.

“You’re most welcome,” Millie propped her feet up on the coffee table, lightly tapping me out of her way. “Go do your homework.”

“Fine.”

I was almost out of the room when she added, “Small towns aren’t like the other places we’ve lived, Anne.”

“They don’t like newcomers here,” I said.

“They don’t like newcomers? Interesting. I wouldn’t go that far,” Millie’s tone was level. “They is an amorphous and not exactly helpful amount of people to describe. As you well know.”

“The people who live here,” I said slow and enunciating. “Don’t like newcomers. It’s true. Stereotypes can be true.”

“I’m just saying you don’t know this place yet, and maybe instead of just reacting to it, you could figure it out first,” Millie said. “Figure it out m ore.”

“Fine.”

“Take Monty out before you go up to your room,” Millie said as Monty sprang off her lap.

“What about dinner?”

“I’ll get dinner later. Walk Monty.”

“Okay.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“I’m cheering for you in this, by the way. I don’t wear the official Mars intergalactic cheerleading outfit, but I am still. . .cheering. For you.”

“Great.”

Monty still didn’t know the lay of the land in Greenville either, which meant getting her to walk any farther than a block from our house was still basically like pulling teeth. I felt like I was torturing her.

“Come on, Montsamillion,” I moaned, “help me out here.”

In the end, our “walk” was me standing next to Monty while she lay on the sidewalk and looked up at me.

“You look like I feel, Monty o’ Mine,” I said. “You’re annoying and you look like I feel.”

Millie was right, I didn’t know Greenville.