Emily came into the kitchen with her algebra textbook, her ponytail pulled over her right shoulder as she gazed out the window.

“Why’s our car parked way down by the park shelter, Dad?” she asked, her words tumbling out in a quick whisper.

“The township’s re-marking the utility lines along the street today,” I said, keeping my voice steady and calm.

“Trent was standing next to those orange plastic cones when the school bus let me off,” she said, tugging her ponytail tight.

“Stay in the house the rest of the afternoon, Emily,” I said.