Page 86 of My Family

"Good," he says. "Everyone's here. Everyone's alive. We're off to a strong start."

"Low bar," Santos says, perfectly straight-faced, and we laugh. She doesn't seem to register that she's made a joke, so she keeps her expression locked.

"Tomorrow's schedule. Weigh-ins at eight a.m. at Westlake's gymnasium, which means everybody will be up at six-thirty. First bouts start at ten. I'll go over the bracket tonight once it's posted. For now, I want you rested, hydrated, and calm." His eyes sweep the room, lingering on Jack. "Calm, Jack."

"I am calm! I'm the calmest person here! I'm as calm as someone can be…"

"You've been talking nonstop for three hours," Griff interrupts.

We laugh.

Griff exhales through his nose. "My life choices led me here," he murmurs, and we laugh again.

Then he uncrosses his arms, getting a little softer.

"Now," he says. "Dinner. I'm ordering takeout."

The room goes still.

Takeout. This belongs to a different world, not ours.

"I'm sorry," Jack says slowly. "Did you just say takeout?"

"I did."

"Like… from a restaurant?"

"That's generally how takeout works, Perry."

"Ordered by you. For us."

Griff looks amused. "Is Chinese okay with everybody?"

Nobody speaks.

The silence is so complete I can hear the air conditioning cycling. Eight faces stare at Griff with expressions ranging from Jack's open-mouthed shock to Reed's narrow-eyed suspicion, as if this might be some elaborate psychological test designed to evaluate our response to unexpected kindness.

Liam is the first to break.

"Chinese," he repeats. "Like, with lo mein?"

"With whatever you want. There's a place that delivers. I've got a menu." Griff pulls a folded paper from his back pocket, a takeout menu with photos of food. He holds it up. "Pick what you want. I'm ordering in fifteen minutes."

The dam breaks.

Jack lunges for the menu so fast he nearly takes Griff's hand off. "General Tso's. I need General Tso's chicken. I haven't had General Tso's in… how long have I been locked up? That long. I need it. Griff, I need it."

"Orange chicken," Cedric says, suddenly on his feet, crowding in over Jack's shoulder to see the menu. "And fried rice. And egg rolls. Are there egg rolls?"

"There are always egg rolls, dumbass. It's a Chinese restaurant," Dan says, also standing now.

The menu passes from hand to hand. Santana studies it as if he's going to take a test on it. Tyler looks at it for a second before passing it along.

Liam bounces beside me, his earlier anxiety forgotten. "Can I get dumplings?" he asks, looking at Griff, then at me, then back at Griff, as if he needs permission from both authority figures in his life. "And lo mein? And maybe a spring roll?"

"Order whatever you want," Griff says, shrugging.

For kids who eat what they're given, when they're given it, in portions determined by someone else's budget, this is like winning the lottery.