A while back, Rufus and Olivia made up a game called Traveler, where they tell stories about the other people they see out in the world, though usually when they’re on public transit. Today on the train there was an old man who dropped a lot of cash into the purse of a young salsa dancer and Rufus imagined that he’s a Decker making sure his money goes into the right places before he dies, whereas Olivia was more focused on this woman whom she believed to be a spy for Death-Cast to make sure people are dying as they predicted to protect their reputations.

But if someone else were playing Traveler and saw Rufus, who would they see? Probably a boy who always talks back and is always trying to win a fight. Even against those who don’t want to fight him. In reality, Rufus is a cool kid who loves his family, and he would rather show the world that side of himself instead.

He wasn’t at the start of today, but right now, Rufus is happy.

Things are good with his pops.

His sister is also hanging out.

And his mom has just arrived, wanting to see everyone before she returns to work.

Rufus is tempted to try to pop a wheelie, even though he’s never been successful in executing one, but he doesn’t want to stress out his mom over broken bones when her job at the hospital has her specializing with literal broken hearts.

“Nice wheels,” his mom says, giving Rufus a high five. “What’d you do to deserve that?” she asks, though she looks more at his dad too for the explanation.

“He talked back,” Olivia says.

“You’re technically right,” his dad says. “But Rufus talked back with respect, and I did the same.”

“Happy to hear it,” his mom says.

Rufus likes when she’s proud of him, and he’s going to try harder to make that happen. “I also helped out at the shop.”

“How’s it looking?” his mom asks.

“Better,” his dad says at the same time Rufus says, “Bad.”

For a moment, Rufus braces himself to go on the defense, as if he’s going to be scolded for saying the truth when what he said is legit the truth. The pawnshop is not in great shape. Yeah, they got all the glass off the floor and the front door has been boarded up, but when they left, it was still a mess. And his father seems to remember that as he nods with a little smile and agrees, “It’s pretty bad.”

Rufus breathes, relieved that he didn’t have to fight.

“It’ll be better soon,” his mom says, sitting on the park bench.