Page 80 of Roadrunner

Something in Arthur’s face settled.

Then he turned and went back down the hallway.

Riley watched him go.

I watched Riley.

He turned to me. Something moved through his face that didn’t quite reach the surface. He looked down the empty hallway for a moment longer than necessary.

“He seems like a good kid,” he said quietly.

“The best,” I said.

He looked at me.

I looked back.

He nodded once. He left.

I shut the door.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

Alex

Now

The next morning the boxes were still boxes.

Riley came back with a drill and a level and did not announce either one. He knocked. I opened the door. He held up the drill like an explanation.

“Dresser,” he said.

“Hallway,” I said.

Arthur was already in the hall, measuring the doorway with his hands. “It’ll fit,” he said. “If we turn it.”

Riley looked at the doorway. He looked at Arthur’s hands.

“You’re right.”

They turned it. Without speaking. The dresser scraped once and then sat flush against the wall of the room Arthur had claimed, the one with the window that faced the mountains instead of the street.

Arthur put his palm on the top of it, checking that it did not rock.

“Level?” Riley asked.

Arthur nodded. He took that as seriously as a grade.

We ate lunch standing up. Bread. Cheese. The last of the grapes Martina had insisted would travel.

Riley sat on the back step with a glass of water. Arthur sat two steps down with his notebook open. I stood in the doorway and watched the saguaro do nothing, which was its job.

“What are you writing?” Riley asked.

Arthur did not look up. “The house,” he said. “Which rooms get light. Where the outlets are.”

Riley was quiet a second. “That’s a good thing to know.”