"I know."
"He practiced until his bottom lip split last winter."
"I know."
Naomi stared at the city through Marta's window. "If I transfer him, Briggs keeps teaching. If I fight, Isaiah has to keep telling the story to strangers."
Marta set the pen down. "That is the shape of the choice. I will not pretend it is fair."
In the weeks between the incident and Briggs's leave, Millbrook tried to return to normal the way a surface of water tries to erase a thrown stone—by glittering over the disturbance.