The heavy metal spoon slid from her shaking fingers and clanged loudly against the porcelain sink.

“Don’t say his name with that kind of bitterness, Cassie,” she warned, suddenly sharp.

“He needs our help, and we’re going to give it to him.”

I folded my arms across my chest and let the cruel bluntness of a hurt child pour out into the room.

“Why should we care about him when he’s just some random stranger living behind our fence?” I snapped.

Mom whirled around from the counter, and her face was as white as fresh winter snow.