RILEY
A week on the road teaches you things.
It teaches you that Hunter's favorite gas station food, in order of preference, is: hotdog, then the rectangular pizza, then those cheese crackers that come in the orange wrapper, then pretty much anything else. It teaches you that Luna will read anything — road signs, cereal boxes, the backs of other people's receipts if they leave them on the table — and that this applies to maps with a specific intensity that makes her useful in a way a four-year-old has no business being useful.
It teaches you that Grayson, who presents as a man of action and directness, becomes disturbingly good at telling bedtime stories when cornered into it at a Wyoming motel and realizes the children will not sleep without one. By night three, his stories had a recur
