Page 29 of Everything Is Probably Fine

Bean hopped up and carried a rock in each hand to meet her halfway. “This one is metmorsit,” he said, holding up a striated rock.

“Metamorphic,” Martin corrected.

“Yeah, that’s what I meant,” Bean said. “And this one is sedentary.”

Mrs. Foster and Martin laughed. “Sedimentary,” Martin said.

Lorna looked at the rocks Bean held out to her. They were rocks all right.

“Martin knows how to tell all rocks apart,” Bean said excitedly.

“He does?”

“I’m a geologist,” Martin said.

Lorna’s gaze snapped to Martin to see if he was joking.

Martin smiled a little. “Did you think I was a rapper or something?”

Lorna knew better than to answer that, but she did think he was some sort of musician. What was she supposed to think? He was always wearing the over-the-ear headphones and turning up the volume of his music. “No,” she said, unconvincingly.

“Oh my God, you did,” Martin said, and laughed with amazement.

“Well, I didn’t know he was a geologist until today either,”Mrs. Foster trilled. “The rocks are very interesting when you hear him talk about them. It’s hard to imagine the thousands of years that have gone into making them.”

“Miss Liz said I will learn about rocks in the fifth grade,” Bean said. “She’s a teacher.”

“Was,” Mrs. Foster said. “I’m retired now.”

And all this time, Lorna had thought she worked at a home and garden center. She was always dressed in capri pants and Crocs, with her gray hair pulled back into a ponytail. How had this happened? How was it that faceless neighbors Lorna had lived next to for nearly two years were only now becoming known to her? Also, did Bean know everyone?

“Did you get your letter from Mr. Contreras?” Mrs. Foster asked.

“A letter? No.” Unless it had come today—she hadn’t gone through her pile of mail.

“Rent is going up,” Martin said. “We’re thinking about banding together to fight it.”

“Another two hundred and fifty dollars a month,” Mrs. Foster said, looking slightly traumatized.

Lorna was surprised to hear it. It wasn’t as if their current rent was affordable—she already thought it was overvalued by 20 percent. “Two hundred and fifty a month is outrageous,” she said.

“Right?” Martin said. “He shouldn’t be charging what we’re paying now. There are so many things in disrepair.”

“Right!” Lorna emphatically agreed. Maybe she and the geologist had more in common than she’d perceived.

“Then you’ll help us fight?” Mrs. Foster asked.

Whoa.“Fight? I think he should just sell it.”

Mrs. Foster gaped at her as if she’d just blasphemed the Almighty. “But if he sells it, we’ll be out.”

“Maybe we shouldn’t be living here.”

“Look!” Bean said. “Martin gave me a geode.” He held up a rock.

“Hold on, bud,” Martin said, and looked at Lorna. “What are you saying?”

“Nothing, really.” Why hadn’t she kept her mouth shut? She’d just revealed herself. “I just think this should be a house. A family house.”