“I hate the reading lady.”
Despite himself, Evan smiled. “That sounds promising.”
Lily sniffed.
“She makes me read nonsense words. They aren’t even real.”
“That’s rude.”
A tiny laugh came through the receiver.
Evan leaned against the wall.
“Listen to me. If reading is hard, that doesn’t mean you’re dumb.”
The sentence caught in his throat because no one had said it to him when he was her age.
“How do you know?” Lily asked.
He could lie. He could tell her he knew because adults said so. He could preserve the version of himself he had carried into the Army, the young man who had simply outgrown school problems and never needed help.
Instead he said, “Because it’s hard for me too.”
Silence.
“Still?”
“Yeah. Still.”
“But you’re in the Army.”
Evan laughed softly. “Apparently they let people in who have to read slowly.”
“Mom didn’t know.”
“Not all of it. I got good at hiding it.”
Lily was quiet.
“I hide too,” she whispered.
“I know.”
He told her he would call again when he had more time. He promised nothing about fixing the problem. He only promised she would not have to pretend with him.
When he hung up, Avery remained several feet away.
Evan kept his back to the common area.
“My sister has dyslexia,” he said.
Avery nodded.
“They think she does.”
“And I think I might too.”
Saying it aloud felt more dangerous than anything that had happened at the table.
