She looked at the woman.
“I saw everything,” Zoe whispered.
I turned back toward the woman.
She wasn’t looking at me anymore. She’d turned back to Henry.
She was still demanding an apology.
“Well?” she said. “Are you going to say anything? Or are you just going to stand there?”
“I’m sorry,” Henry said. “I’m sorry, ma’am. I said I’m sorry.”
“Sorry doesn’t clean up glass,” the woman said. “Sorry doesn’t fix my shoes.”
She looked down at her white sneakers.
There was a tiny drop of purple juice on the toe of the left one.
One drop.
“That’s it,” the woman said.
She held up her phone. She waved it.
“I want the manager! Right now! I want the manager here! This boy needs to be fired!”
Henry’s face crumpled.
“Please,” he said. “Please don’t. I need this job. I like this job. Please, ma’am.”
