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“When he falls in love,” said Dru, looking after him, “it’s going to be like . . . wow.”

“Of course then we’ll probably never see him again,” said Livvy. “Lucky girl, whoever she’ll be.”

Ty’s brows drew together. “You’re joking, right?” he said. “You don’t mean we’ll actually never see him again?”

“Definitely not,” Emma said. When Ty was much younger, he’d been puzzled by the way people talked and the way they exaggerated to make a point. Phrases like “raining cats and dogs” had caused him annoyance—and sometimes a small amount of betrayal, since he liked cats and dogs a great deal more than he liked rain.

At some point Julian had begun a series of silly drawings for him, showing the literal meaning of phrases and then the figurative ones. Ty had giggled at the illustrations of cats and dogs falling out of the sky and people having their socks knocked off, as well as the bubble pictures of animals and people explaining what the idioms really meant. After that he was often to be found in the library, looking up expressions and their meanings, committing them to memory. Ty didn’t mind having things explained to him, and he never forgot what he’d been taught, but he preferred teaching himself.

"I didn't say that." Cristina fumbled in the pocket of her gear. "I said I didn't need to tell you, because I meant I could show you. Here. Look at these." She held out her phone, and Emma's heart leaped—Cristina was scrolling through picture after picture she'd taken of the body and the Brothers, the alley, the blood. Everything.

"Cristina, I love you," Emma said. "I will marry you. Marry you."

Cristina giggled. "My mother's already picked out who I'm going to marry, remember? Imagine what she'd say if Ibrought you home."

"You don't think she'd like me more than Perfect Diego?"

"I think you would be able to hear her screaming in Idris."