Daniel and Henry walked through Chinatown the long way because neither of them had anywhere to be for another hour. They were just hanging around, talking about things like they used to, trying this new sense of normal that had begun to sink into the horizon. The sun was up, the clouds sparsely dotted the sky.

  Henry was talking about his mom. She'd found out about SF State and hadn't spoken to him in three days, which for Henry's mom was the nuclear option. The silent treatment. No yelling, no lectures, just plates set down too hard at dinner and doors closed a little too firmly.

  "Don't sweat it," Daniel said. "She'll accept it."

  "It doesn't feel that way."

  "She got over the skateboard thing."

  "The skateboard thing was a hundred-dollar hospital bill. This is me telling her I don't want to work in her restaurant for the rest of my life." Henry kicked a pebble down the sidewalk. "I feel like this is worse than the time I was in the hospital."

  Cars rumbled past. A bunch of high school kids walked down, laughing with their backpacks on, heading home. The sunlight had come out, and the streets were bright, a wax canvas smeared in yellow.

  "What did she actually say?" Daniel asked.

  "Nothing. That's the problem. She just looked at the acceptance letter and put it on the fridge like it was a grocery list." Henry shoved his hands in his pockets. "I can't tell if she's proud or pissed."

  "Both."

  "Yeah. Probably both."

  They passed the bakery. The egg tarts were in the window, golden, steam on the glass. Henry looked at them the way he always looked at food, like it had personally wronged him by being behind a pane of glass.

  "You want one?" Daniel said.

  "Nah. I'm broke till Friday."

  Daniel went in. Came out with two egg tarts in a paper bag. Handed one to Henry.

  "You didn't have to do that."

  "Shut up and eat it."

  They ate. The pastry was still warm. Flaky, buttery, the custard just set. Henry made a sound that was embarrassing in public.

  "God, these are good. Why are these so good."

  "Because you're always hungry."

  "That's not why. These are objectively incredible. This is the peak of human achievement. Forget qi, forget martial arts. Egg tarts." He held up what was left of his, examining it like it contained the secrets of the universe. "You know what, if I ever open a restaurant, it's just going to be egg tarts. Nothing else. Just egg tarts and maybe coffee."

  "You just said you don't want to work in a restaurant."

  "This is different. This is a calling."

  Daniel almost laughed, but his side still caught when he laughed too hard, a reminder that six months of healing wasn't the same as being healed. But it was close. His hospital bill in retrospect had been nearly all his savings. That and the constant stern look from Moreno, before being let off with a warning. Though even that felt like getting off easy.

  Since then, nothing much had happened.

  They turned onto Jackson. The street was doing what it always did. A man hosing down the sidewalk, water running into the gutter carrying bits of lettuce and fish scales. To his right, a newspaper boy came out and set out a rack of newspapers, weighting them down with a stone. The Chinese Daily on top, some headline about the mayor.

  The world moved on, round and around.

  The streets were quieter than they used to be. The corners that used to have guys standing on them didn't anymore. The restaurants that used to have certain tables reserved in the back didn't anymore. Whatever had happened after that night, whatever Li Wentao had done or not done, the result was the city felt like it had been cleaned out. As if nothing remained but ordinary people.

  They passed Harmony Hall. The brass bell was still on the door. The new glass in the window caught the afternoon light. Daniel had the keys in his pocket. He'd go in tomorrow, open up, try to figure out which jars were which. Mr. Zhao said he'd come by and help. They had worked something out, and he said Li Qinghua had helped him back when he was younger, and this was his way of giving back to her.

  Li Qinghua. She had left him the shop in her will. Another small thing he'd never get to thank her for.

  "You nervous about the shop?" Henry asked.

  "A little."

  "You should be. You don't know anything about herbs."

  "I know some."

  "You know goji berries and ginger. That's like knowing two letters of the alphabet." Henry balled up the paper bag and tossed it in a trash can without breaking stride. "What happens when someone comes in asking for, I don't know, dried seahorse for their kidneys?"

  "Is that a real thing?"

  "I think so. My grandma used to buy that stuff. She'd boil it in soup and the whole apartment smelled like dead fish."

  "Then I'll figure it out."

  "Your answer to everything."

  "It's worked so far."

  Henry looked at him sideways. Like he wanted to say something but wasn't sure if he should. The, I should not say something, seemed to have won out. He looked away.

  "Yeah," Henry said. "I guess it has."

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  They walked for a while without talking. Past the herb shops and the jewelry stores. Past the playground where kids were yelling. Past an old man sitting on a crate with a cigarette burning down between his fingers. The smoke curled up past his face and he didn't blink.

  A woman came out of a coffee shop carrying a folding table and two chairs and waited till her friend came by with a brown bag and some takeaway food, before they sat and chatted away about whatever the latest fashion trend was.

  The world was like this. Full of ordinary people who had nowhere to go and all the time in the world. Daniel used to think that kind of life was a total waste of time. Now he wasn't sure. Maybe they just knew something he didn't.

  He looked at the streets, looked at his hands, and then the sky. He guessed without crime, what was he but a normal kid walking downtown. That didn't feel so bad either.

  "Alright," Henry said. "I'm out. You heading home?"

  "Not yet. Got one more thing."

  "What thing?"

  Daniel didn't answer right away. He looked down the road. The fog was starting to come in now, just the first wisps of it, wafting around the tops of buildings. Well, some things never change.

  "I got somewhere I need to be. Something I should have done a while ago."

  Henry looked at him but didn't ask.

  "Alright. Call me later."

  "Yeah."

  Henry crossed the street toward the bus stop. Daniel watched him go. He stood there for a moment, then turned and walked the other direction.

  The trailer park was in Daly City. South of the airport, where the clouds were sparse and the wind cut through everything. The dust rolled up, sweeping off the ground. The front lawn was pale brown dirt, dried and cracked in flakes, the sticks rolling around and half-watered.

  The place looked a lot smaller than he remembered, but many things didn't change. Weeds pushing through gravel. A rusted bicycle frame leaned against the shack that nobody had touched in years. There was a radio on the front porch, just loud enough to hear the tune, but not the words.

  Across the street, he could see the kitchen window from the side, where he had crawled out a few years ago. It had been in the middle of the night, cold, shaking. The last straw in a long list of arguments he couldn't win, because he was a kid, and who listens to kids anyway?

  A backpack, a ten-dollar bill, and a granola bar was all he had on the road.

  I won't be back till I make it out there. Fuck this place.

  He told himself he wouldn't look back, that he was sick of adults telling him what to do, sick of playing it safe, doing the smart thing, and getting shit on for it.

  Now it felt like a very long pause before the end of a long series of choices.

  Back then, just before he leaped out, he heard footsteps from the living room, and before he had the chance to think of whether he had to get into another fist fight, Rachel was there standing behind him. A teddy bear in her hand. Standing there in that oversized t-shirt, the one with the cartoon bunny on it that she'd worn until the collar stretched out.

  "Hey, I'm coming back. Don't worry."

  Big brother! Remember to come back and see me...

  And in the end, he became whatever responsible adult was. A liar.

  He didn't deserve to be back here. She probably figured it out a long time ago. Just one more trick on a long list that adults told little kids. And at some point, he ended up like that too.

  She must be bigger now. Taller. Smarter. Maybe even more resentful. She was twelve years old. Elementary to Middle School. The years where a kid figures out who they're going to be. She used to sing along to the theme songs on Sunday mornings, bouncing on the cushions.

  She used to fall asleep with her head on his arm and he'd sit there for an hour not moving. She used to grab his sleeve when she wanted something. Big brother. Come look at this. Isn't this so cool! It's like that flying sword. Big brother. I'm hungry. There isn't any food tonight again. Can you stay? Come back soon.

  She might hate him. She had every right. He'd been trying to figure out what to say for weeks. Lying in a hospital bed, staring at a ceiling, running it over and over. None of the versions worked. She always asked why he left and never came back. And he never had a good answer.

  His side pulled when he stood up. The gravel was loud under his shoes. He felt these steps were harder than when he had to fight Li Wentao. At least there he was the good guy, saving Henry from the clutches of certain doom. Now he was the bad guy.

  The paint was peeling at the bottom. Television on inside. He could smell the old carpet from the gap under the door.

  He stood there for a second. Took a breath. Knocked.

  His step-uncle opened it. He didn't look much older than the day Daniel had left all those years ago. Same guy. Older, heavier, with a big bald spot on his head and a Budweiser in his hand. He looked almost surprised. Recognition, then anger.

  "You got some balls coming back you little shit after what you did. What the hell do you want?"

  Years ago this voice put ice in his stomach. He felt the shadow of it, but it passed through him. He wasn't a kid anymore. If it really came down to it, he could probably fuck him up.

  "I'm here for Rachel," Daniel said. "You missed the court date, and I'm her legal guardian now, so she's going with me."

  "Like hell you are." His step-uncle stepped forward. "You don't get to come back here after all the trouble you caused. Child Protection Services? Social Workers? You little shit. You made the whole neighborhood think we were mistreating you. Now, get the fuck out before I make you."

  "I'm not leaving without Rachel," Daniel said.

  "The hell you aren't. I'm going to count to ten, and if you aren't out, I'll teach you another lesson your stupid parents didn't when they were alive."

  "Chen? What are you yelling about?"

  "It's the little shit. He's back."

  "Daniel? Daniel is that you?"

  His aunt appeared behind the step-uncle. She must have heard the voices from the kitchen. She looked older too, thinner in the face, her hair pulled back tight. She looked at Daniel the way she used to look at him when he'd done something wrong, which was most of the time.

  "Daniel," she said. "What are you doing here?"

  "I'm taking Rachel."

  "You can't just show up and take her. We've had her ever since you were kids. We've fed her. Clothed her. Kept her in school. Do you know what that costs? Do you know what we gave up?"

  Yeah. He did know. He knew what foster checks were worth, and that two kids was better than one. He knew that they didn't spend a dime more than whatever social services said they needed to, and pocketed the rest.

  That was the thing about California. As long as things look right, nobody cared whether it was or wasn't.

  "We took you in," his aunt said. "Both of you. When nobody else would. Your parents left you with nothing and we opened our door. And you climbed out a window in the middle of the night like we were the bad guys."

  "I'm not here to argue," Daniel said. "The court decided. I'm here to pick her up."

  "The court doesn't know what we've done for that girl."

  "Yeah," Daniel said. "It doesn't know how many times you beat the fuck out of us, because we didn't keep our mouths shut."

  He let that sit.

  His aunt's mouth closed. She knew what he meant. She'd always known. She just never expected him to come back and say it out loud.

  His step-uncle's hand tightened around the can and for a second Daniel thought he was going to swing. Part of him almost wanted him to. It would have been simpler.

  But he let his hands drop. Took a breath. There were more than one way to open a door.

  And before his uncle could do anything, Moreno stepped next to Daniel from the side. Hands in his bomber jacket. Looked at the step-uncle. Looked at the aunt.

  "Will there be a problem here?"

  Chen looked at Moreno. His mouth opened as if wondering where he came from. Then it closed. He scowled, but he didn't step forward again. That was the thing about cowards. They stayed afraid, even when they grew up.

  The television kept going behind him, as feet started moving around near the back door. She should have gotten a letter. A notice. If she remembered what they did as kids, they'd always be up an hour early to grab the mail, before his step-uncle would wake up to get it.

  "Rachel," Daniel called.

  Quiet. Just the TV and the wind pulling at something on the roof.

  "I'm... I'm back."

  Then a door opened in the back of the trailer.

  She came down the hallway and his chest locked up.

  He'd had speeches. He'd had backup speeches. Versions where he apologized, versions where he explained, a version where he stood there and took whatever she threw at him because he deserved every bit of it.

  She walked past the living room. Past the dishes in the sink. Past the TV. She stopped in the doorway and looked at him.

  Her eyes were the same.

  He waited for the words. Yet all that came out was.

  "Welcome back," she smiled.

  And it was him who couldn't say anything for a while.

  "What took you so long?"