Noah looked up, and I was startled to see sorrow and anxiety in his expression rather than defiance or teenage rebellion.

“Because Autumn needed a reliable wheelchair that would not break down every single morning,” he answered softly.

I stood frozen beside the kitchen table, completely unable to form a coherent sentence for several seconds.

Autumn Miller was a seventh-grade classmate of Noah’s at Cedar Creek Middle School, living two streets over from our house.

I knew the girl from seeing her during the crowded afternoon carpool line and during the district choir performance last winter.

She had long chestnut hair, bright green glasses, and a sweet, melodic singing voice that always earned enthusiastic applause.