At 2 P.M., I Walked Into My Parents’ Backyard Expecting To Pick Up My 8-

before they got back, maybe I wouldn’t be in trouble anymore.”

I felt something splitting inside me—an old familiar tear in my chest where my parents used to live, ripping wider.

“You did nothing wrong,” I said, each word deliberate. “Do you hear me, Amelia? Nothing. Kids fight over toys all the time. That doesn’t make you bad. That doesn’t make you continue reading …