“I’ll get that.” I start to stand up, but Vera pushes me back down into my seat.

“Relax, it’s probably just Rutherford picking up his holds,” she says, disappearing into the store.

Vera says that all the time when the bell rings, that it’s probably just Rutherford. It’s become a running joke. Rutherford rarely picks up his holds. He’ll come in once a year or so, slam down a few grand, and take everything home. The rest of the time they just sit, wasting space and money.

I clean up the rice she dumped and put it on a napkin. “Are you going to start at Silver Hills too, then?”

“Silver Hills what?” he asks.

“Silver Hills High School? We technically cover Claremont, although most of the kids there go to private schools.”

“Oh,” he says, looking down. “No.”

“Private school?”

“Probably not.”

I tilt my head. “Wait. How old are you?”

“Seventeen.”

“So did you graduate early or drop out or what?”

“I don’t really know,” he says, shrugging like it’s no big deal.

I take a sip of my Sprite, marinating on that thought. “I didn’t think that it was possible to not know.”

“It’s just, it’s a long story—”

“I’ve been texting you nonstop!” Jayla practically shouts, sliding back the curtain and stepping into the room. “This is getting ridiculous. You can’t just—” She glances at Ridley and down at where our knees meet. “Am I interrupting something?”

“What? No!” I say, scooting my chair over closer to Vera’s, which means the only place for Jayla to squeeze in is right between me and Ridley. She grabs a chair and sits, looking him up and down.

“Favorite Robin?” she asks.

“Uh, what?”

I roll my eyes. “She does this with everyone, sorry. Jayla, can we skip it this time?”

She flicks her eyes to mine. “Did you make him give you book recommendations?”

I bite my lip. “Maybe, but—”

“If you got to test him, I get to test him,” she says, and turns back to Ridley. “Favorite Robin?”

“I don’t know. I guess Dick Grayson.”

She stares at him for a second before shifting so she only faces me. “Anyway, I’ve been texting you. I want to go—”

“Jayla,” I say, arching my eyebrows.

“Ugh, fine,” she says, turning her chair back to the table. “But he said Grayson, Jubi. Dick Grayson. Out of all the Robins, he’s the worst.”

“Well, my sister’s named after—”

“Don’t worry about it. She’s just a Jason Todd fan,” I say, hoping that explains everything. It should. There have been so many Robins standing by Batman’s side over the years, but the Jason Todd fandom and the Dick Grayson fandom are especially precious about their guys each being the best of the best.