Clyde shifted his grip on the fishing rod, the faint creak of the reel breaking the still hum of the lakeside. When he turned his head, he caught Micah staring across the water, his chin tilted slightly down, his phone clutched in the other hand. His gaze was unfocused, watching dazedly. The boy was so still, so lost in whatever thought that Clyde paused.
"Something happened?" Clyde's voice was quiet but edged with concern. "Is it about home? Do you need to go back?"
Micah didn't look at him. "No…" His voice trailed, the pause stretching as if he were debating whether to say the rest. Finally, he added. "Do you think you can change your fate?"
Clyde's heart skipped a beat. His brows drew together before he answered. "Yeah. I've always believed in achieving greatness by effort rather than luck. So… yeah, I think you can change it." His gaze sharpened slightly. "But I'm guessing that's not the real reason you're asking…"
