He shrugged. The window behind Dylan framed him with color. On this warm, bright evening in June, wisps of cloud had snagged their hems on the peaks of her valley.

“Do you want to sit down and work on it with me after dinner, before you go to Jace’s house?” she asked. His usual technique of procrastinating until the night before a test gave her hives.

“Maybe.” Which meant no. He chewed a mouthful of pizza, well on his way to consuming his customary enormous quantity.

“Do elaborate, dear brother,” Leah said grandly, “and tell us how we can become patrons of your math success.” She’d learned that a teasing response to Dylan’s sullenness drew him out more effectively than a serious one.

“Yes, Dylan,” Tess said. “Please do tell how we can help.” The older woman cut her bangs ruler-straight and allowed the rest of her pale gray hair to hang flat to her shoulders. The hazel eyes that tipped downward at the outer corners bracketed an imposing nose. She always wore a shade of lipstick called Frisky Peony and a pair of earrings that looked like miniature modern art sculptures—gold circles mounted inside larger silver circles. Her face radiated pragmatism.

In contrast, Rudy’s face radiated sweetness. His ears were long, his glasses slightly askew. A rosy, healthy glow underlit his lined, age-spotted skin. Tess ensured that his white hair remained neatly trimmed. Nonetheless, it managed to look disordered, as did his clothing.

“This subject is boring,” Dylan said.

“No, indeed,” Leah countered. “We’re all waiting with bated breath for you to tell us about your summer school math class, utilizing more than five words at a time.”

“There’s not a lot to talk about. I mean . . . I’m bad at math.”

He’d said that to annoy her because he knew it rubbed her the wrong way. No one was bad at math. Many people didn’t respond well to the way math was taught in school. But that did not mean they were bad at it. She hadn’t responded well to the way basketball was taught in PE when she was growing up. But she didn’t go around declaring herself bad at basketball.

“I understood math fine until it started using the alphabet,” Dylan added.

Rudy chuckled. “Yes! What are A and B and X and Y doing in math problems?”

“Rudy,” Tess said sternly. “Letters have earned their rightful place in math problems.”

Leah sent her an appreciative glance.

Rudy straightened in his seat repentantly.

Dylan started to explain his current math unit and why he disliked it. The rest of them listened, their meal of store-bought pizza and salad (that Leah had provided) and homemade bread rolls (that Tess had provided) garnishing the table.