Tasha’s cheeks went red under her makeup.

She took Madison by the elbow.

“We have to get home for dinner,” Tasha said, her voice low and tight.

“Come on, Madison.”

Madison rolled her eyes, tapped her nails on her phone one more time and followed her mother down the aisle toward the registers without a backward look.

At eight that evening the house was quiet.

Sadie sat at the kitchen table bent over her flash cards, writing out dates for her history test.

I sat on the living room sofa with the family laptop on my knees.