Crystal studied the girl, who didn’t seem willing to look at her. There had been a time, a little more than a decade ago, that they’d all gone to the park together. Sat on see-saws. Played on swings.

“Where are my manners?” Amy asked, her tone entirely wrong for the question. “Do you want tea?”

“Sure. Thank you.”

Amy nodded, rising from her seat, and got the kettle that was set above a little fire on the rooftop, bounded on three sides by brick, a metal grille over the top for the kettle to rest on.

“Any word from your dad?” Crystal asked.

“Marquis or Mark?”

“Marquis.”

“No. He’s picked up the villain thing again, he’s gathering people around him. Pretty women, naive villain boys who look up to him. I haven’t heard from Mark, either.”

“He’s there for you if you want it.”

Amy made a face. She poured a mug of tea, then carried it over.

Crystal was careful as she accepted it. She wanted to grip the mug, but the mug itself was hot, and her instincts made her shy of touching Amy’s hand, with the one finger she’d replaced, that wasn’t tattooed.

She created a forcefield table instead, aware her mother would wag a finger at her.

She smiled a bit, at that thought.

“He’s divorcing Carol,” she said, looking down into the mug.

“Good,” Amy said, perfunctory. She settled back into the chair.

“Just like that. Your parents, and…?”

“It’s good,” Amy said, and it sounded like she was putting effort into being genuine, into emoting. “She’s not good for him, he’s not good for her, I’m not good for Victoria. It’s a mess. We’re a broken family.”

The words were so bitter.

“Whenever I’m with Carol and Mark, it’s hard to think,” Crystal said. “There are dynamics, there’s things left unsaid. It’s… heavy. I feel like I’m always waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

“My life from age six to seventeen, pretty much.”

“Yeah,” Crystal said. She wasn’t sure how to sustain this conversation.

They drank tea for a minute.

“I spend half a day talking about myself during those therapy sessions once a week. I’m tired of discussing me. What are you up to?”

“Not much. Helping Aunt Carol with her team, then moving on. Checking on people. Spending time with my mom. We got an apartment together, in this building without stairs or an elevator. It’s awesome and awful in equal measure. Who wants to live with their mom at my age?”

“Any upcoming events?” Amy asked.

“I…”

“I was wondering if you’d bring up the party for Vista,” Amy said, not making eye contact. “Old Brockton Bay people, Breakthrough, associated friends.”

“Heard about that, huh?”