I had always considered the right answer to an adult’s question the answer that caused the least trouble.

The word yes almost escaped before I stopped it.

“No,” I said.

She didn’t tell me to forgive anyone.

She wrote down my answer.

The social worker’s name was Leah Winters.

She explained that child-protection workers would need to assess where I could stay and that I was not being punished for speaking honestly.

She called my aunt Colleen, whose number she located with my help, and explained only what she was permitted to share while arranging a conversation.