It was a heavy, dull blow, like thick iron striking hard ceramic tile at full force.

A second later, Vanessa’s high voice shrieked through the downstairs.

“Get away from that table this second!” Vanessa screamed.

I dropped the folded tablecloth on the top step and ran for the stairs.

My socks skidded on the polished oak runner before my feet hit the cold kitchen tile.

Emma was lying on her side on the cream porcelain floor, her left palm flat in a warm puddle of maple syrup.

Her green eyes were squeezed shut.