"Send me the list."
"I sent it to Mara already. She's better at structural assessment."
Ronan's mouth moved in a smile he did not bother to hide. "That is an excellent reason to send it to Mara first."
The answer pleased Eli more than praise would have. The club president had not expected him to pretend he knew everything. He had approved of asking the right person to check the work. For a boy whose pride sometimes made him afraid to admit uncertainty, that approval meant something lasting.
Mara came out of the classroom with a folder beneath her arm. She had been reviewing the property list during the session and had marked several notes in the margins. She handed Eli a sheet covered in her precise, slanting handwriting.
"The timber property is worth a visit," she said. "But the roof repairs in the permit record need an independent inspection. And the converted mill has a drainage problem you noticed without knowing the technical name for it."
Eli read the note. "Surface runoff concentration."
"Exactly. You saw the issue. You just didn't have the vocabulary yet."
"I thought that meant I'd missed it."
"No. Learning the word helps you explain what you already observed. That's how knowledge grows."
She tapped another line on the paper. "And you need to remember that a drawing is not a guarantee. We never assume a structure is sound just because it looked sound on the day someone measured it."
Eli smiled. "My uncle says that."
"Your uncle is a smart man."
She tucked the folder under her arm and walked toward the parking lot, where her motorcycle stood beside Cutter's and Ronan's. At the doorway she paused and looked back.
"Technical school," she said. "Building systems program. Think about it."
"I'm twelve," Eli reminded her.
"I know exactly how old you are. You can think about the future at twelve. You just don't have to decide the entire future today."
She left before he could answer.
Eli stood in the doorway and watched the April sunlight move across the parking lot. The trees were still thin enough that he could see the hill beyond the community center, the direction of the ridge where Iron Hollow stood. He thought about the concrete room, the red light, and the night when he had understood in a single instant how much he did not know. He also thought about the months since: the scholarship, the classes, the people who had taken his questions seriously, and the simple pleasure of learning a word that gave shape to something he had already noticed.
He was not ready to choose a profession. He did not know whether he would become an engineer, a builder, a firefighter, or somebody who designed safer ways for people to use complicated places. For the first time, the uncertainty did not trouble him. It meant there was more to discover.