Across the gravel driveway, the front door of the Caldwell house clicked open, and heavy boots came out onto the porch.

Trent stayed on his knees in the dirt, cradling his sore wrist and staring up at me in sudden wide-eyed fear.

Trent backed toward his three gym buddies without once taking his eyes off my hands.

No one said a word as the four of them climbed into Trent’s pickup, slammed the doors, and drove off down the cul-de-sac.

I walked back to my porch, picked up the garden trowel, and wiped the wet dirt off the handle with my thumb.

Emily was sitting at the kitchen island when I came back in, her track tryout schedule spread out next to her algebra binder.