Chapter 5: The Folder

Luca's roommate's car was a small green hatchback that smelled like old french fries.

It took us fifty minutes to reach Oakmont.

I spent them with my forehead against the window, doing arithmetic.

Two hundred and twelve thousand dollars was the whole price of a house on this street, or most of it.

It was my grandmother's coffee can, and he had spent it.

"We're here," Luca said.

The house sat at the end of a clean street with new mailboxes.

Franco's truck was in the driveway, and Mom's car was behind it.

Dad's was gone, because Dad worked at the warehouse until six.

I was glad.

I wasn't ready to see his face yet.

Luca parked at the curb and turned off the engine.

"Do you want me to come to the door?"

"I want you where I can see you," I said. "But I'll do the talking."

"That's fair."

We walked up the path.

The smart lock had a little gray panel beside the door with a keypad and a ring of light.

I pressed my palm to it and nothing happened.

I pressed the doorbell.

It rang inside the house, a bright, expensive chime.

I heard feet, and then a pause on the other side of the door.

Mom opened it two inches.

She saw Luca first and her face tightened.

"Who is this?"

"My resident adviser at Columbia. He drove me."

"Columbia." Mom spat the word. "You made your sister cry for a week about that school, and now you're bringing college boys to the house?"

"I came for my documents," I said. "My birth certificate, my Social Security card and my passport."

"Your father said nobody takes anything until you apologize."

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