Jonathan Goldstein

In restaurants, he sees his mom settle for the wrong meal rather than bother the waiter.

For once, he wants Skye to stop worrying about everyone else's feelings.

He wants her to focus on herself.

It's not just Clark who feels this way.

There's someone else who also wonders why this happened and has always wished Skye had had the chance to ask.

Hello?

Is this Rachel?

This is Skye's mom, Rachel, the only eyewitness to what happened that night.

And the person talking to her while chewing a hunk of Munster cheese and challah bread because his boss Alex thinks taking lunch breaks is more of a biz ops thing is me.

The night the girls showed up, around 2 or 3 in the morning, Rachel was reading in an armchair by the window.

She's always up in the middle of the night.

It's a habit that began in childhood.

She tells me that her own mom, Skye's grandmother, suffered from schizophrenia.

She was unpredictable, and the middle of the night was the only time the house was ever quiet and safe.

It was during those calm nights, alone, that Rachel began writing poetry.

But on the night the vandal struck, she could also hear four 11-year-old girls making their getaway.

When the sun came up, Rachel saw the fuck you on the garage, and immediately she phoned up one of the girls and spoke with both her and her mom.

While neither denied what had happened, nothing much came of the conversation.

And after that, Sky begged Rachel not to make any more phone calls.

The idea of confronting anyone just upset Sky more.