“Graycee’s home. Come on, let’s make sure her father hasn’t been arrested for beating up a kid,” I tell Liliana. “He’s not that crazy,” she says. I side-eye her. “The kid called Graycee fat at practice the other day.” “Oh shit, RIP, kid.” Lil makes the sign of the cross on her body, and I fold my arms over my chest and glare at her. “What? The little shit had it coming.” She shrugs.
