He turned back.
“Maybe bias is the word I can say without pretending I understand myself better than I do.”
Jalen’s eyes narrowed.
“That sounds like a lawyer wrote it.”
Camille nearly smiled.
Brenner did too.
“No.”
“My therapist probably did.”
That surprised everyone.
Jalen leaned back.
“You go to therapy?”
“Yes.”
“Because they made you?”
“At first.”
Honest.
Jalen asked:
“Did you think my skateboard was stolen?”
Brenner took time.
“At the beginning, I thought it could be.”
“After the initials?”
“I should've stopped.”
“After the family picture?”
“I should've stopped earlier.”
“Then why didn't you?”
Brenner looked ashamed.
“Because by then I was arguing with you instead of investigating anything.”
That sentence mattered.
Jalen had never heard an adult describe authority that way.
Brenner continued:
“Every question felt like you challenging whether I knew my job.”
“So I kept trying to prove I did.”
“And the more I did that, the worse I performed it.”
Jalen nodded slowly.
“Why did you change when Mom called the chief?”
Brenner did not hide.
“Because I realized there could be consequences.”
Jalen stared.
“Not because you realized I was telling the truth.”
“No.”
The answer hurt.
Also helped.
Brenner continued:
“That’s the part I am most ashamed of.”
Jalen looked toward Camille.
Her eyes were wet.
She looked away.
Jalen asked:
“Would you do it again?”
“No.”
“You sure?”
“No.”
Brenner shook his head.
“I mean, I hope not.”
“I can't promise what I haven't been tested on.”
Jalen almost smiled.
“That’s actually a good answer.”
“Thank you.”
“Still don't like you.”
“Understood.”
The meeting ended without a handshake.
Jalen did not want one.
Brenner did not ask.
Outside, Camille said:
“How do you feel?”
“Hungry.”
She laughed.
“No.”
“Seriously.”
They walked toward the elevator.
Jalen thought.
“He wasn't how I wanted him to be.”
“What did you want?”
“Worse.”
Camille looked at him.
“If he was worse, being angry would be easier.”
“Yes.”
She nodded.
“People disappoint even in apology.”
Jalen smiled.
“That sounds like therapy.”
“Expensive.”
They went for burgers.
A year passed.
Then two.
Jalen’s viral clip stopped circulating except when some new incident caused people to repost old examples.
He hated being rediscovered by strangers.
At seventeen, his debate coach suggested he use the mall incident in a college essay.
Jalen refused.
“Why?”
“Because I did other things.”
The coach nodded.
“What?”
Jalen built an after-school skate workshop at the community center.
He mentored middle-school debaters.
He worked weekends repairing boards at a local skate shop.
He had spent two years learning photography because the cracked family picture made him obsessed with preserving ordinary moments before they became precious.