Pip took the scribbled shopping list out of her mom’s hands. “It says ‘bread,’ not ‘thread,’ ” she said. “Glasses?”

“No,” her mom said, pulling a packaged loaf off the shelf. “They make me look old.”

“That’s OK, you are old,” Pip said, for which she received a cold whack on the arm with a bag of frozen peas. As she dramatically feigned her demise from the fatal pea wound, she caught sight of him watching her. Laughing into the back of his hand.

“Ravi,” she said, crossing the aisle over to him. “Hi.”

“Hi.” He smiled, scratching the back of his head, like she thought he might. He looked nice, dressed in a white T-shirt and jeans.

“I’ve never seen you in here before.” “Here” was one of Fairview’s only grocery stores, pocket-size and tucked in by the train station.

“Yeah, we usually shop out of town,” he said. “But milk emergency.” He held up a half gallon of 2 percent.

“Well, if only you had your coffee black.”

“I’ll never cross to the dark side,” he said, looking up as Pip’s mom came over with her full basket. He smiled at her.

“Oh, Mom, this is Ravi,” Pip said. “Ravi, my mom, Leanne.”

“Nice to meet you,” Ravi said, hugging the milk to his chest and stretching out his right hand.

“You too,” Pip’s mom said, shaking his offered palm. “Actually, we’ve met before. I was the agent that sold your parents’ house to them, gosh, must be fifteen years ago. I remember you were about five at the time and always wore a Pikachu onesie with a tutu.”

Ravi’s chuckled. “Can you believe that trend never caught on?”

“Yeah, well, Van Gogh’s work was unappreciated in his own time as well,” Pip said as they walked to the registers.

“Go ahead of us,” Pip’s mom said, gesturing to Ravi.

“Oh, really? Thanks.”

Ravi strode up to the cashier and gave the woman working there a small smile. He placed the milk down. “Just that, please.”

Pip watched the woman’s face as it creased, folding with recognition and disgust. The woman scanned the milk, staring at Ravi with cold, noxious eyes. Fortunate, really, that looks couldn’t actually kill. Ravi was looking down at his feet like he hadn’t noticed, but Pip knew he had.

Something hot stirred in Pip’s stomach. Something like nausea at first, but it kept swelling and boiling until it reached her ears.

“Two forty-eight,” the lady spat.

Ravi pulled out a five-dollar bill, but when he tried to give her the money, she shuddered and withdrew her hand sharply. The note fell in a slow glide to the floor, and Pip ignited.

“Hey,” she said loudly, marching over to stand beside Ravi. “Do you have a problem?”

“Pip, don’t,” Ravi said quietly.

“Excuse me, Leslie,” Pip read out from the cashier’s name tag, “I asked if you had a problem.”

“Yeah,” the woman said. “I don’t want him touching me.”

“Why, are you contagious or something?”

“I’m going to call my manager.”

“Yeah, you do that. I’ll deliver my complaint in person.”

Ravi put the money on the counter, picked up his milk, and walked silently toward the exit.

“Ravi?” Pip called, but he ignored her.

“Whoa.” Pip’s mom stepped forward now, hands up in the surrender position as she came to stand between Pip and the reddening Leslie.

Pip turned on her heels, sneakers screaming against the overpolished floor.

Outside, she could see Ravi thirty feet away, pacing quickly down the hill. Pip, who didn’t run for anything, ran to catch him.

“Are you OK?” she said, stepping in front of him.

“No.” He carried on around her, the milk carton sloshing at his side.

“Did I do something wrong?”

Ravi turned, dark eyes flashing. He said, “Look, I don’t need some kid I hardly know fighting my battles for me. I’m not your problem, Pippa; don’t try to make me your problem. You’re only going to make things worse.”

He kept walking, and Pip watched him go until he passed out of sight. She felt the rage retreat back into her gut, where it slowly simmered out. She was hollow when it left her.