She would, too. She'd do it in a millisecond, and she'd done it before, and that knowledge was an anchor, like her hand was an anchor. Maybe Rosario's mom felt it a little, too, the warmth of that protectiveness – or maybe she was just trying to play things down cuz she realised Lyra was still listening in – because she gave a shaky sort of laugh and she sounded halfway to her normal self when she retorted, "Rosario, you tell Lyra she better not try and cut a bitch or her gramma gonna cut me."
Rosario couldn't even muster an answer to that. Normal, even halfway-normal, was too much right now.
Her mother sighed in her ear, low and heavy. "It's not what you're thinking, okay. There's no bad guy. It's just..." Her voice trailed, and Rosario waited, but all she said was, "It's just a... thing. I'll tell you everything at home, I promise."
Rosario managed to mumble something like agreement and hung up the phone. When she looked up at Lyra, whose hand she was still clutching, her eyes were wide and lost. "She said it's all fine and she'll tell me at home. Tell me what? I don't— what the hell is happening?"