"You paid for the hot chocolate with your own money," Aaliyah said. "And you saluted with a rag. Jordan."
His face opened. "You have a good filing system. I saw a video once and deleted it because it made you sound thin. I hope that wasn't rude to the evidence."
"My grandmother says pockets leave things out. Deleting a bad pocket seems fine."
"I'm at the community college," he said, suddenly shy about it, as if the muffin case might overhear and mock him. "Music appreciation and also accounting, because appreciation doesn't pay rent. I don't play. I just — I tell people sometimes that a kid reminded me to take my own life seriously. I don't use your name. It's not my story to spend."
"Thank you for not spending it," Aaliyah said. "I'm in a Saturday studio now. I still practice at home. My grandmother still says again."
"Good," Jordan said. "The piano's been okay. Nobody as — I was about to say nobody as good, and then I realized I shouldn't make you a high score. People play. Some of them mean it. That was the thing. You meant it before the clapping."
"I was also scared."