Jordan was sitting on the edge of the cot with his backpack on. Not next to him. On. Both straps, like he was ready to run. His face was the color of the paper on the cot and his hair was damp at the temples, and the cowlick at the back of his head was standing straight up like an antenna picking up a signal from very far away. There was a little paper cup of water next to him, untouched. He looked at Caleb, and then he looked at the floor.
"Hey," said Caleb.
Jordan said nothing.
There was a man there too — a big guy with a shaved head and a cardigan the color of oatmeal, crouched down on the other side of the cot so he'd be at Jordan's eye level. He stood up when Caleb came in, and kept standing up for a while, because there was a lot of him.
"You must be Caleb," the man said, and held out his hand like Caleb was a grown-up. "I'm Mr. Okafor. I'm the counselor here. Your brother talks about you."
Caleb shook his hand. It was warm and dry. He didn't know what to do with your brother talks about you, so he didn't do anything with it.
"So listen," Mr. Okafor said, in a voice that was easy and slow, like he had all the time in the world, "this wasn't a bad day. I want to say that up front, because I know Jordan's going to go home and think it was a bad day. It was a hard day, and those aren't the same thing. He used his card and came down here and we did the breathing, and he rode it out. That's a win in my book." He turned to Jordan. "That's a win. Right, man?"
Jordan nodded at the floor.
"I know it's been a lot better since Christmas break," Mr. Okafor went on, to Caleb now. "He's been doing great with Mrs. Castellano in the library at lunch, and the mornings have been way smoother. So one tough afternoon, that's just a wave. Right? That's what we call 'em. Waves come in, waves go out." He smiled. "Anyway, I'm sure your mom's filled you in on all that."
Caleb opened his mouth.
Jordan's head came up. He looked at Caleb, and his eyes were enormous, and in them was something Caleb had never seen there before, or maybe had seen and walked past — a kind of pure animal begging. Don't. Please don't.
"Yeah," Caleb heard himself say. "Yeah, she — yeah."
Mr. Okafor nodded like that was the answer he'd expected. "Your mom's great," he said. "She's been in here more than I've been in here this year." He laughed. "Okay. You guys head on home. Jordan, I'll see you Monday for lunch bunch?" He held up a fist and Jordan bumped it, weakly, and Mr. Okafor turned that same fist to Caleb, and Caleb bumped it too, because what else were you going to do.