Noah looked down at his scraped right knee, where a wide white bandage covered the dark scab from his fall on Thomas Road.

“She told me I was going to be in big trouble for riding out of the driveway.”

“She was wrong,” I said.

“You did the right thing.”

“She made me sit at the kitchen counter for an hour because I left my shoes by the front door,” Noah whispered.

“She turned the kitchen radio up so loud my ears hurt.

That’s when I heard Lily crying in the garage.”