Henry sat down on the rug right next to Ethan’s polished leather shoes and laid out the plastic parts.

By nine thirty, Sam was sitting in the breakfast nook with a fresh glass of orange juice and his workbook open to long division.

Ethan came into the nook with a fresh mug of coffee and stood at the corner of the oak table.

“Your brother told me you like numbers,” Ethan said.

“Numbers don’t change when people get angry,” Sam said, without looking up from his page.

“They stay the same on both sides of the equals sign.”