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A message from Sadie had arrived while we were driving.

Where are you? You weren’t in class.

I answered before she could ask again: At the station. Some guy grabbed me while I was running. I’m okay. Dad’s here.

Her reply took longer than I expected.

Then: I’m coming. Don’t leave.

I put the phone on the table.

The marks on my upper arms were becoming easier to see. Red patches were deepening unevenly beneath my skin. My left wrist felt sore when I bent it.

My shoulder hurt if I moved it too far back.

Nothing was broken. Nothing was missing. I’d been present for the whole thing. That was almost refreshing.

I was thirsty, and I hadn’t finished my apple at lunch because Clayton had stolen half of it.

It seemed possible to be upset about what had happened and already tired of thinking about it.

Sunshine came in before I could work out whether I should tell anybody that.

She had left the shop in a hurry. A deep red anemone petal clung to the cuff of her dress, and one earring had twisted backward.

Her blue eyes went from my face to my arms.

I stood for her.

She held me so carefully that I almost wished she would just squeeze.

“Hi, Mom,” I said.

Her breath moved against my hair.

I stayed there until she was ready to let go.

The officer from the gas station arrived a few minutes later.

Dad finished a call with Riot before letting him in.

“Riot signed the boys out,” he told Mom. “They’re on their way.”

Then the officer took my account while Dad stood near the door and Sunshine sat beside me.

I told him about the comments. The list. Turning toward the store. Both times the man grabbed me, and what I did to get away.

I didn’t have to reach for any of it.

I remembered the pickup leaving the driveway. The gray in the employee’s hair. The sound my shoulder made against the brick.

It all stayed where I put it.

Dad didn’t interrupt.

That made it easier.

The officer wrote things down, asked me to clarify a few details, then asked permission to photograph the marks on my arms.