By three thirty in the afternoon, the heat had settled heavily over the cul-de-sac, drawing a gray haze across the tops of the oaks.

Emily came out to the porch steps with her algebra book and a blue pencil case and sat on the third step down, where the shade from the awning was deep.

Down by the corner mailbox, Nora Hayes stepped out onto her front lawn with a pair of yellow garden shears, keeping an eye on the street.

Gravel crunched lightly at the curb as Trent walked slowly down the middle of the road toward our yard.

He wasn’t wearing his gray gym hoodie, and he wasn’t carrying his heavy black leather workout bag with the four-ounce blue gloves in it.