“It’s the headquarters for the local anti-Pilot organization. They’ve got meetings and stuff.”
“No kidding? You should go, Will.” The older man, who had a Pilot, nudged the younger.
Will frowned. “I’m not anti-Pilot. I’m anti paying for one. They’re only subsidized for teenagers.”
Val regretted having said anything; she felt like she’d stumbled into the same private conversation that her own family had argued out so many times. If they kept going, she’d make her excuses and march into the building.
The father turned back to her. “What about you? I notice you didn’t walk in there yourself.”
“My daughter’s in there. I didn’t want to intrude.”
“Isn’t that what parents are for?” Will’s tone was teasing.
“Sometimes, I guess.” She took another sip. “She’s mad about something, and I don’t want to give her more reasons to be mad. I don’t think I’m on the bad list yet.”
“Fair, fair,” said the older man. “What about you? Anti-Pilot, anti-paying, or something else?”
“Anti-Pilot.” She surprised herself with her lack of hesitation. Had she ever said that out loud before? She usually said she was in solidarity with Sophie or she wanted to wait for more information, but the truth was she already had her own answer. It felt good to say it.
Will looked at her. “Do you work?”
“I’m a teacher.”
“And they haven’t found some excuse to phase you out yet? Are there a lot of teachers without in your school?”
“Three,” she admitted. “They haven’t said anything yet about phasing us out.”
“Uh-huh.”
They drank in silence. When Will went inside for another round, Val declined. She nursed the first beer knowing she’d be driving home soon enough, hopefully with Sophie, not that she would count that particular chick until safely back in the coop.
The door opened across the street, and a single person walked out. A minute later, three more.
“That’s my cue,” Val said. “Thanks for the beer and the company.”
“A pleasure,” the father said.
She waited for another few people to exit, then marched herself through the door.
Sophie and her friend Gabe both looked over when Val entered. Gabe raised a hand in greeting. Sophie looked surprised, but not entirely hostile. Whatever had her staying away from home wasn’t Val’s fault, then. It gave Val the courage to approach, which was hilarious on some deep level, that she was this nervous to approach her own daughter.
“Did she send you?”
Definitely mad about something. Luckily, Val could profess ignorance in complete honesty. “Julie? Why would she send me?”
Sophie sighed, the exact sigh she had always sighed. She would make that sound at eighty, Val was sure.
“Look, Soph, what if I buy you dinner somewhere and you tell me what’s wrong? I’m honestly here to listen.”
“We’ve got chili here.”
“Okay, then. I skipped dinner to come talk to you, and I’m hungry. Can I eat some chili while you tell me what’s wrong?”
Sophie considered, then nodded toward the kitchen. “Go help yourself. I’ll be there in a minute.”
That wasn’t the worst response.
In the back, a mismatched stack of ceramic bowls and an astonishing array of spoons stood next to an enormous slow cooker. When Val lifted the slow cooker’s lid, she was hit with the rich scent of beans, tomatoes, onions, garlic, chili, cumin, something else. She ladled a portion into a red bowl and grabbed a spoon with Snoopy etched into the handle.
It looked like the meals she herself was best at making: hearty, healthy, throw everything in a pot and leave it alone, but whatever that extra ingredient was, it tipped it past anything she usually made in the taste department.
She half expected her daughter to head out the door with the crowd and leave her sitting here alone, but Sophie joined her after a couple of minutes.
“Who does the cooking? This is delicious.”
Sophie smiled. She had bags under her eyes. “It’s pretty good, isn’t it? It was my turn tonight.”
Val tried to hide her surprise. “You? Really? But—”
“But it’s good?”
“I was going to say But you don’t cook. It’s terrific. Since when do you cook?”
“Just because I don’t, doesn’t mean I can’t.” Sophie lifted her chin, and Val resisted the urge to throw her arms around the girl.
“Well, like I said, this is delicious. Maybe you can improve the quality of meals we eat at home. There’s something special in here. It’s more complex than the chili I make.”
“Cocoa powder. And red wine vinegar. I don’t think you put either of those in your chili, do you? But I’m not going back there. She’s a liar.”
Val would never in a million years have thought to add cocoa powder to chili. She filed the information away and focused on the more important thing. “What’s she lying about?”
“She’s been spying on me.”
“Spying?” This was the kind of conversation where she’d keep repeating key words and hope they would eventually lead to a place of understanding.
“Online. For ages. She created a whole fake persona and she’s been hiding in my groups spying on me and not telling me it was her.”
Val thought of all the nights sitting on the couch with Julie watching TV and puttering online at the same time. Sophie was obviously mad about an intrusion, as she had a right to be, but Val also bristled at the idea there had been nights where she wondered where Sophie was, and Julie had known and not said. Nights where she’d said “Whatcha doing?” and Julie had responded “Work” or “Shopping.”
Sophie stared at her, clearly waiting for her to defend Julie. If Sophie was right, Julie’s actions weren’t defensible.
“Oh,” she said.
A weak response if ever there was one, and Sophie obviously agreed. “Of course you’ll side with her. You probably knew.”
“I didn’t know. I’m processing. That’s a horrible thing to do to you, but I also can’t help thinking she must have had a reason.”
“Her reason was spying. Infiltrating. She was pretending to be one of us the whole time. And what really sucked is, I liked her. She had good ideas. I
