Gabriel grinned. “You can take them next time, buddy.”

He’d spoken without thinking, but before he could glance at Layne to translate, the boy grinned back and held out a fist. Gabriel bumped it with his own.

“This is my little brother,” said Layne. Her hands signed while she talked. “His name is Simon.”

Gabriel bent and began helping them catch the loose papers. “Freshman?”

“Yeah.” She paused, and then signed while she spoke. “It’s Simon’s first year at a real school.” She stopped signing and covered her mouth. “In case you couldn’t tell, it’s not going well.”

Simon punched her in the shoulder again.

Layne dropped her hand. “And he hates it when I don’t let him see what I’m saying.”

Simon was signing again, so fast that Gabriel had no idea how anyone would be able to make sense of it.

But Layne did. “He wants to know if you’re going out for basketball again this year. He just made the JV team. He made me take him to every basketball game last year, so he saw you play.”

Everyone made JV, but Gabriel didn’t say that. “Yeah,” he said, “varsity tryouts are Friday.” He probably didn’t have to show up.

“I’m sorry I didn’t make it to the library.” Layne gestured to the mess around them. “I was busy.”

“It’s cool,” he said, feeling a flash of guilt that he’d assumed she was standing him up. “Let me know if those dicks mess with you again.”

“Why?” she said, her voice flat again. “You gonna rumble under the bleachers?”

“What does that mean?”

“Nothing. Forget it.” She shoved the last of her papers into her backpack. She tapped her brother on the arm, and then signed while speaking, “Come on, Simon.”

Gabriel studied her, nonplussed. “You’re mad at me?”

“Maybe if you thought with something other than your fists, you’d be passing math on your own.”

Gabriel stared, having no idea what to say.

And in that moment of silence, she picked up her backpack and rounded the corner, without once looking back.

CHAPTER 6

Gabriel took a third processed chicken patty from the pan on the stove and another scoop of macaroni and cheese, then joined his brothers at the table. Nick had cooked, which usually worked out best all around. Not that mac and cheese was haute cuisine, but their older brother’s cooking skills topped out at pressing buttons on the microwave. After their parents died, Michael had been all they had left, so they’d spent the latter half of middle school living entirely on frozen dinners.

The table was quiet for a change. Michael was absently eating, his laptop open on the table in front of him. He made an effort to sit at the table with them, but he might as well have been sitting in the garage. Chris was glowering at his plate. Gabriel wondered what was up with that, but he couldn’t stop rolling Layne’s words around in his head.

Maybe if you thought with something other than your fists, you’d be passing math.