Max sat two rows up on the aluminum bleachers, wearing a crisp black golf shirt and dark sunglasses.

He held up his phone and checked his reflection in the dark screen to fix his hair before putting it away.

“Lily lost her stride on that turn,” he said, not looking at me.

I kept my hands wedged deep in my coat pockets, feeling the cold air through the lining.

“The bank sent a notice about forty-one thousand two hundred dollars.”

Max tipped his paper coffee cup to his mouth and swallowed.