Theo looked at the pencil marks beneath the joint.
The project had taught him something similar. A damaged support did not become strong because you pushed the pieces together and hoped. You checked the load. You reinforced the weak place. You waited for the glue to cure.
He did not say that out loud.
He liked the thought too much to risk his father turning it into a life lesson.
Logan changed slowly enough that Theo believed it more.
He stopped telling classmates the accusation had been a misunderstanding. He corrected one boy who said Mr. Pritchard had overreacted because Theo “probably did some copying.”
“No,” Logan said. “He didn’t.”
Theo heard about that from Priya.
Logan also stopped asking Theo to forgive him.
He apologized once more, privately, near the workshop door.
“I wanted him to think I was the smart one,” he said.
Theo knew who he meant.
“Your uncle?”
Logan nodded.
“And I thought if I admitted you started it, he’d think I was just helping.”
“You were helping.”
Logan flinched.
Theo continued, “Helping isn’t bad.”
“I know that now.”
Theo looked at him. “Do you?”
Logan thought before answering.
“I’m trying to.”
That was the first answer Theo trusted.
By winter, they worked at the same table again, though not as automatic partners. Sometimes they chose each other. Sometimes they did not.
Priya joined the robotics club and brought back stories about machines that refused to follow instructions. She teased Theo for still using the broken ruler at home.
His father offered to buy a new one.
Theo refused.
“I know how this one works.”
His father shook his head. “That is exactly what people say right before causing expensive construction problems.”
Theo laughed.
