“Um, here’s my business card. Call me and let me know how Diesel’s doing.”

“We’ll be okay. I’ve got my key,” Morgan tells the lady as she unlocks the door and opens it a crack.

Finally, she heads back to her car and drives away, leaving me to stare at the creamy slip of cardboard. Johnson and Peters, Attorneys at Law. “She doesn’t look like a lawyer.” I flip the card to Morgan. “We’re lucky she agreed to pay.”

Morgan steps into the entrance and holds her finger to her lips. “Crazy lucky,” she whispers. Morgan looks at the card, then up at me with a curled lip. “I still can’t believe you left me behind at the swimming pool.”

“You were busy with Tom. I was the one all by myself.”

“But I brought Simon there for you!” She tiptoes through the hall ahead of me.

“He ignored me, just like you did,” I whisper after her. “Tell the truth, he doesn’t really like me.”

She stops and turns around. “Exactly as I told you before. He thinks you’re a hot pepper.”

I raise my eyebrows. I don’t think she said it exactly that way before.

“Honestly, guys like smart girls. That giggly dumb-girl thing those others do around him gets really old.”

This coming from someone I used to think was dumb. I shrug. “For you and me maybe. Simon seemed to like it just fine.”

“Su-Ling started putting the moves on Simon back at the park pool when you backed away so you could learn to swim first. She just wore him down.”

“You think Little Mermaid would have won him over?” I ask.

“No.” She shakes her head. “Still, ya gotta learn to trust me, Naomi.”

I think about that for a moment and nod. “Maybe you can help me with that.”

“Apology accepted.” She grins full out. “And just for the record, luck had nothing to do with getting Ms. Johnson to pay. We had them dead to rights. We make a great team, Naomi.” She lifts her hand and we fist-bump. Then she flips on a light and we see her mother curled up asleep on the couch waiting for us.

She blinks sleepily and sits up. “What happened to you two? Where’s Diesel?”

We explain everything, and it feels great to unload. I wish I could talk to Mom like this, but I don’t know if she’d still stop Diesel’s treatment. Too much money. Doesn’t matter who’s paying it, she might say. You can feed a child in Somalia for years on that.

“How awful! Are you okay?” She stands up and hugs me. She feels all bony, not soft and cozy like Mom. “You sure you don’t want to go home. Or call your mother?”

“Thanks. I’m positive.”

“Why don’t you fix yourselves a snack and then head off to bed?” Morgan’s mom suggests.

It surprises me just how hungry I suddenly become at the mention of a snack, so Morgan nukes us a couple of leftover sprinkle donuts.