I pick up a bag of coffee beans and stand, blowing a strand of hair off my forehead. Mom, who is applying for the title of Captain Obvious, makes a production of this. “What were you doing on the ground?” Owen watches me, the slightest trace of amusement behind his eyes. I hold up the bag of coffee. “Dropped this.” Mom looks at me like I’m one step away from being hauled off in a straitjacket, and I force myself to smile. I shove the bag of coffee in Reagan’s hand and lean toward her. “Traitor,” I whisper.
