The nightlight in the outlet made a moon shape on the ceiling. Her stomach growled again.
"You didn't eat," Benji said.
"I'm not hungry."
"Your stomach is."
"Is Mama going to be okay?"
"Yes."
"Is her face broken?"
"No. It's just red."
"How do you know?"
She didn't know. She hadn't seen. She had walked right past the bathroom door with the light under it and hadn't knocked. She didn't know why she hadn't knocked. She had been afraid of what would be on the other side. Not her mother's face. Something else. That her mother would look at her and it would be Josie's fault, all of it, the honor roll and the slap and the cold chicken, and her mother would be right.
"I just know," she said.
Benji was quiet a while. Then: "Why did Mama give me the big piece?"
Josie looked at the moon on the ceiling.
"Because she loves you," she said.
"Does she love you?"