“You’re going after her?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Ray looked toward the rain outside.
Because he had noticed something during the three seconds the girl stood beside his table.
She had not eaten the burger.
A hungry child stealing food usually took a bite before reaching the door.
This girl had pressed the sandwich against her chest with both hands, protecting it from falling.
Like it mattered more intact than it mattered to her stomach.
Ray said:
“I want to ask her something.”
He walked outside.
Cold rain struck his face.
Motorcycles stood beneath the long awning beside the building, black seats shining with water.
The road hissed whenever a car passed.
Ray saw nobody at first.
Then movement near the alley.
The girl.
She was running behind the bar.
Still clutching his sandwich.
“Hey.”
She accelerated.
Ray followed.
“Kid.”
She disappeared around the corner.
Ray reached the alley.
The girl stood twenty yards away beneath a broken streetlamp.
She had stopped running.
That surprised him.
Ray slowed.
The girl faced him.
Rain dripped from her hair.
Her chest rose quickly.
She looked terrified, but she did not run again.
Instead, she held the sandwich tighter.
Ray stopped several yards away.
“I’m not going to grab you.”
The girl said nothing.
“I’m not calling the police either.”
Her expression changed slightly.
“Then why are you following me?”
“Because you took my dinner.”
She swallowed.
“I said I’m sorry.”
“I heard you.”
“I mean it.”
“I believe you.”
Ray pointed toward the food.
“You haven’t eaten any.”
The girl looked down.
“No.”
“Why not?”
Silence.
Ray waited.
People often talked when you gave silence enough time.
Finally:
“It’s not for me.”
The answer landed heavier than he expected.
“Who’s it for?”
The girl’s jaw tightened.
Ray tried again.
“Brother?”
She shook her head.
“Dad?”
Another shake.
“Who?”
The girl whispered:
“My mom.”
Ray stopped feeling irritated.
“What happened to your mom?”
“Nothing.”
“That doesn’t sound true.”
“She’s sick.”
“What kind of sick?”
“I don’t know.”
The girl’s eyes moved toward the street.
Ray noticed how quickly she shut down when questions became personal.
He lowered his voice.
“What’s your name?”
More hesitation.
“Lily.”
“Lily what?”
“Bennett.”
“I’m Ray.”
“I know.”
That surprised him.
“How?”
“You own Mercer Cycles.”
Ray looked down at his vest.
His shop patch answered the question.
Lily added:
“Everybody knows.”
Ray almost smiled.
“Not always a good thing.”
She glanced at the burger.
“Are you making me give it back?”
“No.”
Her head lifted.
“No?”
“You need it more.”
Lily’s shoulders dropped slightly.
“Thank you.”
She turned.
“Wait.”
The tension returned immediately.
Ray held up both hands.
“If your mom is sick enough that you’re stealing food, somebody should know.”
“She doesn’t need anybody.”
“You just stole a hamburger for her.”
Lily looked down.
Ray regretted how harsh that sounded.
He tried again.
“Where do you live?”
She shook her head.
“I’m not telling you.”