Chương 14
Tasha noticed.
So did James.
Neither said anything.
The door closed behind them.
The house felt wrong without Devon in it.
Tasha hated that too.
At nine that night, her recovered project opened successfully.
Thirty-two hours of recent edits were missing.
Not six weeks.
Thirty-two hours.
Still painful.
Still manageable.
Renee brought her a bowl of reheated pasta.
Tasha ate half of it at the desk while rebuilding two scenes.
James came in around ten and set a power strip beside her.
She looked at it.
“What is that?”
“Nothing symbolic.”
She stared at him.
He shrugged.
“The old one was overloaded.”
Tasha laughed.
“Good to know.”
He left without another speech.
Sunday passed in work.
Tasha edited until her shoulders hurt, slept four hours, woke up, and edited again.
Renee forced her to shower before noon.
James went through bank statements and password changes.
Devon stayed at Marcus’s.
He texted Tasha once.
Need anything from home?
She stared at the message for nearly a minute.
Then replied.
No.
Five minutes later she sent another.
Actually my blue notebook from the hall shelf.
He replied.
Got it.
Nothing else.
By Sunday evening, the project was finished.
Not the version she had lost.
A different version.
Rougher in two places.
Better in one.
Tasha submitted it at 11:43 p.m.
She stared at the confirmation page until the word Submitted stopped looking real.
Then she closed the laptop.
Renee found her asleep at the desk twenty minutes later.
Monday morning brought no miracle.
Tasha went to school.
People complained about quizzes and parking and cafeteria coffee.
Nobody knew about Malik.
Nobody whispered when Devon’s name came up.
The world had not learned her family’s worst weekend overnight.
That felt strange after Devon’s certainty that one image could ruin everything instantly.
James drove her home that afternoon.
He did not mention the investigation until they turned onto their street.
“Morales called.”
Tasha sat straighter.
“And?”
“They got access to the unit.”
Her hands went cold.
“Was my stuff there?”
“Some of it.”
She turned toward him.
“What does some mean?”
“The headset.”
“Computer?”
“Case and power supply.”
Tasha looked out the window.
“What about the rest?”
“Gone.”
She nodded slowly.
The loss hurt differently now.
Less like shock.
More like arithmetic.
Graphics card.
Memory.
Drive.
Money.
Time.
James continued.
“They found a lot of property.”
“How much?”
“Enough that this is bigger than us.”
“Malik?”
“They located him.”
Tasha looked back at James.
“Arrested?”
“Questioned.”
“That is not the same.”
“No.”
“Devon?”
James tightened both hands on the steering wheel.
“He still has consequences.”
Tasha waited.
“We met with someone this morning.”
“Who?”
“Juvenile intake.”
Her stomach tightened.
James glanced at her.
“He admitted what he did.”
“What happens?”
“Restitution is being discussed.”
“To me?”
“To you and your mother.”
Tasha stared ahead.
“And punishment?”
“Community supervision is possible.”
“You sound like Morales.”
“I have learned the language of maybe.”
That almost made her smile.
At home, Devon was sitting at the kitchen table.
He looked up when Tasha entered.
He had a composition notebook in front of him and no phone.
“Hey.”
“Hey.”
She put her backpack down.
James went upstairs.
Renee was at work.
For the first time since Saturday, the siblings were alone.
Tasha opened the refrigerator.
There was leftover chicken, mustard, orange juice, and half a cheesecake Marcus had dropped off for reasons nobody understood.
She took the juice.
Devon watched her.
“They found your headset.”
“I heard.”
“And the case.”
“I heard.”
He looked down at the notebook.
“I have to make a list.”
“Of what?”
“Everything I owe.”
Tasha poured juice.
“That will be a fun list.”
“Yeah.”
She sat across from him.
He turned the notebook around.
Computer components.
Cash.
Headset.
Controller.
Insurance money.
Below that was a separate line.
Tasha account problems.
She tapped it.
“What is this amount?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“Then why is there two hundred dollars?”
“Dad said there might be fees.”
“There might not.”
“I know.”
“Do not invent debt just because guilt feels productive.”
Devon looked at her.
“That sounded like Dad.”
“Terrible.”
He almost smiled.
Then his face became serious again.
“I got fired.”
Tasha frowned.
“From what?”
“My job.”
“You barely had a job.”
“I worked at the rec center.”
“You worked six hours a week.”
“That still counts.”
“Why?”
“They said until everything gets sorted out.”
Tasha nodded.
“That sucks.”
“Yeah.”
She meant it.
He seemed surprised.
Tasha drank her juice.
“I’m still mad.”
“I know.”
“You are going to be paying me back forever.”
“I know.”
“If you touch my stuff again, I will remove one of your hands.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“That sounds legally questionable.”
“I’ll research.”
He laughed.
A real laugh this time.
It stopped quickly, but it existed.
Two weeks later, Tasha received an email while stocking yogurt at work.
She almost ignored it because the subject line looked formal and boring.
Then she saw the scholarship program name.
She opened it beside the dairy cooler.
Her project had advanced to the final round.
She read the sentence three times.
Her first instinct was to call Renee.
Her second was James.
Her third, annoyingly, was Devon.
She hated that he was still on the list at all.
She called him anyway.
He answered on the fourth ring.
“What?”
“Nice greeting.”
“I’m doing community service and some kid just threw mulch at me.”
Tasha leaned against the cooler door.
“I made the finals.”
Silence.
Then, “For the animation thing?”
“Yes.”
He shouted so loudly she pulled the phone away.
Someone near him told him to keep working.
Tasha laughed.
“You are supposed to be serving the community.”
“I am celebrating community achievement.”
“Go pick up trash.”
“Proud of you.”
The words quieted her.
She looked down the grocery aisle.
A woman was comparing two brands of butter.
A toddler was crying because he wanted a balloon.
Life had continued being embarrassingly normal.
“Thanks,” Tasha said.
Then, after a pause, “Do your hours.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She ended the call.
The investigation continued for months.
Not dramatically.
Mostly through calls, forms, interviews, delays, and dates written on calendars.
Some of Tasha’s computer parts were recovered.
The drive was not.
Neither was the cash.
The account in her name was eventually cleared after documentation showed unauthorized use, though the process required more emails than seemed morally acceptable.
Devon paid restitution in pieces.
Twenty dollars.
Forty.
Seventy-five after a weekend helping Marcus paint apartments.
He kept the notebook.
Tasha kept every payment marked with the date.
Neither pretended money repaired trust.
By winter, Devon had earned limited access to his phone again.
He asked before entering Tasha’s room.
Every time.
Sometimes she said no just because she could.
In January, a refurbished computer tower appeared beneath her desk.
James found the case used.
Renee contributed toward replacement memory.
Tasha bought the graphics card herself with scholarship money from a smaller local competition.
Devon paid for the replacement backup drive.
When he handed her the box, he did not call it a gift.
“That is part of what I owe.”
Tasha took it.
“Yes.”
He nodded.
Neither hugged.
That night, she installed the drive.
Before plugging it in, she wrote her name on a small strip of masking tape and stuck it across the top.
Devon stood in the doorway.
“You labeling everything now?”
“Yes.”
“Should I be concerned that you labeled the stapler?”
“Yes.”
He smiled.
Tasha looked at the empty second chair beside the desk.
“Come here.”
He hesitated.
“Why?”
“I need someone to check the audio timing.”
“I don’t know anything about audio timing.”
“You have ears.”
“That has not been established in court.”
She rolled her eyes.
“Sit down.”
Devon entered the room.
Before touching the chair, he stopped.
“Can I?”
Tasha looked at him.
The question was small.
Ordinary.
Months late.
Still necessary.
She nodded.
“Yeah.”
He sat beside her.
Tasha opened the project.
The new computer fans spun to life beneath the desk, quiet and steady.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Then Devon pointed at the screen.
“That character’s hand looks weird.”
Tasha stared at it.
“You have been in this room six seconds.”
“I am contributing.”
“You are leaving.”
He laughed.
She did too.
May you like
The sound settled into the room without fixing everything.
It did not need to.
