"My aunt in Cleveland thinks I should move home to Texas and let my parents feed me until I forget I ever wanted my own life. My parents think the diner is a phase, like bangs. I think I am a person. We are at an impasse that involves tortillas, long-distance phone bills, and disappointment served warm."
Mikey looked up, orange sleeves dusty with glitter.
"What's an impasse?"
"When adults argue with feelings instead of facts," Elena said.
"Oh," Mikey said. "Like bedtime. Or when Mom says the cartoon is over but the cartoon is clearly still happening in my head."
They laughed again. The night kept offering them laughter like a gift they had not wrapped themselves and therefore could not return.
On the floor, the couples skate returned with a swirl of red and green and a song that made even the tough kids look briefly soft. This time Elena did not pretend to think.
"One more lap," she said.