The number on the wall said forty-three when they left, and Sam made Caleb stand and look at it before he was allowed in the van.
"Forty-three," Sam said. "Twelve points of ceiling above it, so you're still ahead, but I want you to carry the real number with you, not the one you'd rather believe. You walked into the yards at thirty-one. You walked out at forty-three. One door cost you twelve points of spread."
"There are four doors left. You do the arithmetic on what four more like Pasco does to that wall, and then you tell me you understand why I make you look at it."
"I understand."
"Say the arithmetic," Sam said.
"Four more doors like Pasco and the wall's past ninety." Caleb said it flat, because his brother had not asked for it to be softened. "And ninety is close enough to a hundred that the gap stops mattering. I know, Sam. I'm not going to pretend the math is kind."
