GABRIEL
It only took five minutes into the car ride back home for me to realize what Pop had said to my Uncle Marvin, or at least for me to get the gist of it. He spent the time switching off between trying to comfort his son and keeping me calm. I don’t know why they thought I would do something; I hadn’t said a word, and Lance didn’t give a shit about some low-wage scumbag with one too many bags of Doritos under his belt using some outdated insult that really just boils down to calling him lazy.
And as if to prove my point, Lancelot said just as much to his dad. “Dad, that word doesn’t mean the same thing to me as it does to the people on television and in the news. Gabe and I defanged that word when we were about ten.”
“Oh! How did you do that?” Lance looked at me as if to ask if I wanted to explain.
“You do it.”
