"Real food!" Mick exclaimed, coming into the kitchen.
Will chuckled while he stirred the spaghetti sauce.
After arriving at the apartment in the same building where Kevin lived, he and Mick had unpacked their few new clothes and the sheets and towels Will had stopped to buy on their way there. Then they'd gone grocery shopping. He'd been hard-pressed to keep Mick from putting everything he saw into the shopping cart. As it was, they'd ended up with seven overstuffed bags of food and necessities. "Enough to feed an invading army," he'd muttered, as he paid the cashier.
Now he said, "Set the table, please."
Mick did, with Styrofoam plates, paper napkins, and plastic utensils. "Not high-class, but a lot better than what we're used to," he said when he was finished.
Will nodded, checking the spaghetti then taking it off the stove. "Whoever furnished this place forgot a sieve," he grumbled, carefully pouring out the water while trying not to lose any of the pasta in the process.
"Hey, at least there were some pots, so quit grousing."
"True." After doling out the spaghetti, Will poured sauce over each portion. "Water or milk?"
Rather than replying, Mick got two plastic cups, filling each one with milk before putting them down beside their plates.
"Guess that answers that," Will said. "So let's eat and then you can get on with your studies."
"What?"
Will grinned wickedly. "You thought I'd let you slide on that? You have to earn your GED."
"Hang on a minute," Mick said after taking a bite of spaghetti. "I thought that was just part of our cover story."
"Nope. You are going to get it. First thing tomorrow, once we know Kevin's safely in class, we're getting you a laptop and you can study for it online."
"But, but…"
"Do you want to make something of yourself?" Will asked sternly.
"Of course. But I was just thinking a job, like you said, once I get some ID."
"Which you will get, but that means calling home to get your birth certificate and find out your Social Security number. Then, when you have them, you can do anything you want—work, school, more school so you can get a better job…"
Mick sighed, taking another bite. "This is good."
"Thank you, and you're not changing the subject. After supper, you call home and get the information you need. While you do that, I'll check on Kevin."
"Umm, Will, how are you going to do that? Knock on his door?"
"I'll figure out something. After all, he thinks I'm a family friend." He shrugged.
"Who just happened to end up living in the same building and is suddenly much better dressed than you were the first time he saw you."
"So he might not even recognize me, especially without the beard."
"He might not," Mick pointed out, "but if his mother's there, it's for damned sure she will."
"You're right." Will stared down at his plate, realized he hadn't started eating, and twirled some spaghetti around his fork. As he raised it to his mouth, he had a thought.
"Are you planning on eating that or staring at it," Mick asked with a bit of amusement.
Will ate it before taking out his phone. A call to Captain Newsome netted him Mira's cell phone number but he decided to wait to call her until after he'd finished supper.
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