Ellis looked at Ben.
“He said if you found it tomorrow, everyone would think you really dropped it.”
Carter laughed once. It was a thin sound now. “That’s not what I said.”
Ellis kept going.
“He told me to keep it tonight and put it under the seat in the morning. He said then you couldn’t prove anything happened.”
The bus driver twisted in her seat.
“What happened?”
No one answered immediately.
Rain clicked against the windows. Ben could hear it faintly on his right side, a soft uneven tapping. The left side of the world still felt hollow.
Ellis held the hearing aid out again.
This time Ben took it.
His fingers shook as he checked the casing. He knew better than to put it back in without drying it. His audiologist had taught him what moisture could do. He wrapped it in the clean corner of his shirt instead and closed his fist around it.
Carter scoffed. “He’s acting like I broke it.”
Ben looked at him.
“You took it.”
“I didn’t even touch it.”
“You kicked it.”
“You dropped it.”
June turned toward the driver. “Did you see him searching for it?”
The driver’s face tightened. “I saw him out of his seat.”
“Did you hear him say he lost medical equipment?”
“I heard noise. I had children crossing the road.”
June nodded, once. “Then maybe you didn’t know what was happening.”
The driver seemed relieved for half a second.
Then June added, “But now you do.”
Ben looked at his sister.
At debate tournaments, June could make a sentence sound like a door closing. She had never used that voice on his behalf before. He was grateful and embarrassed at the same time.
Carter looked toward the boys who had laughed with him.
None of them met his eyes.
The driver shut off the engine.
