Page 201

“Who’s watching. Where their friends are. Whether a teacher is looking. Whether they’ve got the audience they want.”

Tova stops moving the remote between her fingers.

“He does that.”

I keep my voice where it is.

“What else?” she asks.

“Hands.”

Her gaze drops automatically to mine.

“Not my hands.”

“I know.”

“Good.”

She almost smiles.

“People move all the time without thinking about it. Fix a sleeve. Touch a pocket. Mess with a phone. On the ice, guys shift their grip or tap their stick. Then they decide what they’re going to do, and a lot of that extra movement disappears.”

“They stop moving?”

“Sometimes. More often they get specific. Eyes go where they need to go. Hands get ready.”

Astrid’s coffee sits untouched.

Tova thinks about that.

“He smiles.”

“Before?”

“Yes.”

“Every time?”

“Almost.”

“That might matter.”

“You said faces don’t matter.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You were going to.”

“I was going to say I don’t know what his smile means.”

“I do.”

“Then you know him better than I do.”

She goes quiet. I don’t fill it.

After a while she asks, “So if he checks his friends, smiles, and then his hands stop?”