Toby slept in the carrier strapped to my chest, his breath damp through the fleece, and by seven fifteen I was standing outside Oak Ridge Middle School watching Brooke open the side door with her teacher badge.

She glanced down the empty hall.

“Locker one fourteen.

Third row, on the bottom.”

“You could get into trouble for this,” I said.

“I’m already in trouble,” Brooke said.

“I just don’t know what kind yet.” She tucked her hair behind her right ear and led me past a bulletin board covered with paper turkeys.

The hallway smelled of floor wax and pencil shavings.