“Oh well, I’m sure she didn’t mean to say that,” Barbara said, rubbing a protective hand over Cole’s head. Yes, she did, that thoughtless bitch. “Don’t worry, Hannah.” Even though you were probably too worried about pleasing Stella to stand up for your brother. “Cole will be fine, honey. He’s just tired. Now, why don’t you go ahead upstairs and get started on your homework?” That way Barbara wouldn’t be tempted to say something to her daughter that she truly might regret. “Dinner will be ready soon.”

“Are you sure he’s okay?” Hannah asked, drifting closer to Cole.

Instinctively, Barbara held him tighter, swallowing the irritation that was clogging her throat. “I’m sure, honey.”

She was willing to overlook whatever role Hannah might have had in allowing Cole to get upset. But she would not tolerate her daughter getting upset herself. Sometimes all of Hannah’s “sensitivities” seemed an awful lot like self-involvement.

“Your physics midterm is tomorrow, isn’t it?” Barbara had Hannah’s entire exam schedule committed to memory. More proof that whatever was going on with Cole wasn’t some oversight on Barbara’s part. She paid attention—it was what she did. “You need to stay focused on your classwork, Hannah. Acceptance letter or not, Cornell will look at your final grades.”

“Okay,” Hannah said reluctantly, like she was afraid something worse might happen the second she stepped from the room. She tried to meet eyes with Cole, but his face was still buried in Barbara’s neck. “I’m sorry you’re upset, Cole.” She waited a second for him to look at her.

When he didn’t, she finally drifted away. She was barely up the stairs when the doorbell rang.

“My goodness, now what?” Barbara singsonged into the side of Cole’s head, hoping she sounded more amused than worried. She put him down on one of the kitchen chairs. “Stay here, honey. I’ll be right back. Don’t move.”

Not that it looked like Cole was going anywhere ever again.

Barbara tried to stand taller as she headed to the front door. Not perfect, only happy. Not perfect, only happy. Except how was that supposed to make her feel any better, when Cole did not seem remotely happy?

Through the squares of glass beside the front door, Barbara could see her own mom, Caroline, standing on their front stoop. It was Tuesday, the day her parents joined them for dinner each week. Barbara had completely forgotten. She loved her mother dearly, but having her parents there today, of all days, wouldn’t make anything easier.

Barbara forced the corners of her mouth up. “It starts with a smile!” That was Caroline’s second favorite saying, right after “Not perfect, only happy.” The truth only matters as much as you allow it, that was Caroline’s point.

“My word, that took a long time!” Caroline called when Barbara finally opened the door. Her round cheeks looked especially rosy against her red coat, but her new chin-length hair was making them seem puffier than usual. Barbara worried that her own shorter haircut was doing the same thing—inflating her. Caroline shifted the casserole in her hands and pressed a squishy cheek against Barbara’s much stiffer one. There was never a kiss, only the cheeks.

“How many times did you ring? I only heard it once.” Barbara was already on the defensive. But she needed to relax. Not take everything so much to heart. Her mother didn’t mean anything. Everything in her head just came right out of her mouth. Besides, with Caroline, reacting only served to draw attention to her most vulnerable spots. “I was with Cole in the other room.”

“Let me guess. That terrible SpongeBob blotting out the world again.”

“Cole doesn’t watch SpongeBob, Mom,” Barbara said, nipping at the bait anyway. “The TV wasn’t even on. Where’s Dad?”

“Oh, his back is acting up again.” Caroline waved an aggravated hand. “It’s all that leaning over the cars all day. I keep telling him to leave it to the boys. That’s what he pays them for, and too generously, I might add. But you know your father; he treats that business like some precious orchid in need of constant attention. They’re cars, for heaven’s sake.”

“Well, I’m glad you made it,” Barbara said, though she wished she could send her mom home to take care of her dad without offending her.

As Barbara turned back to the kitchen and Cole—whom she really needed to be worried about—a sudden shakiness nearly overwhelmed her. She had to press a hand against the wall to keep herself upright.

“Oh my, what’s wrong, dear?” Caroline stepped closer, clutching the casserole between them. “Have you not eaten today? You know how woozy you get when you don’t eat.”

Barbara forced herself to take a deep breath and pushed herself up off the wall. She’d already left Cole out there too long. “I’m not hungry, Mom,” she said as she headed toward the kitchen. “It’s Cole. There’s something— He had an off day. It’s all been a little stressful. Maybe I’m just tired.”

“An off day?” her mom called after her. “What on earth does that mean?”

Back in the kitchen, Barbara poured herself a glass of cold water, gulping it down, trying to ignore the way Caroline was hovering inside the kitchen door, peering at Cole.

“Well, is he hurt?” Caroline sounded concerned but a little disgusted, too. To her, physical pain was the only legitimate justification for any kind of outburst.

Barbara knelt down in front of Cole, smoothing the hair out of his eyes. He’d found a rubber band somewhere and was wearing it around his wrist, snapping it over and over against his skin. Not hard, but Barbara put one hand over the band so he’d stop, then lifted his chin with her other hand. Finally, Cole looked at her. His brown eyes, wet and pink-rimmed, glowed. Barbara wiped her thumb over his cheek, stained gray where his tears had turned playground dust to mud.

“Can you tell me what happened, Cole?” she asked. “With Will?”

Cole’s lower lip started to shake. Then he squeezed his eyes shut and started to rock, clamping his hands over his ears as if blocking out some horrible sound.

“Cole, stop that!” Caroline cried, rushing closer, still with the stupid baking dish in her hands. “What on earth?”

Hands over his ears, Cole dove into the crook of Barbara’s arm. She thought she might be sick. It was so awful. All of it.

Barbara wanted so badly to smack his hands down. To shout at him to stop. But she wouldn’t do that to Cole. Whatever this was, it wasn’t his fault. Something had happened to him. Stella and her house of horrors, that’s what. Barbara took a breath and covered Cole’s hands with her own, rocking him gently against her. She heard Caroline’s voice in the distance, but she needed to focus on her son. And he was so stiff in her arms. It was like holding a rusted metal coil. Barbara pressed her nose into Cole’s hair. At least he smelled right: of salt and sand and sweat. Like any other normal little boy. She put her lips against his clammy cheek and kept on rocking. Because Cole was normal, that much she knew.

“It hurt my eyes,” Cole mumbled finally. “And my ears. It was hurting my ears.”

“What hurt?” Barbara asked, trying to keep her voice calm and gentle. But all she wanted to do was scream. And all she could think about was how she was going to let loose on Stella. That woman could raise her children in whatever substandard fashion she saw fit, but how dare she let the consequences of her casual neglect injure someone else’s. “Did Will do something to you, Cole?”

“It was the way he was looking at me,” Cole whispered.

“For heaven’s sake, what way he was looking at you, Cole?” Caroline shouted, angry now.

Barbara tried not to bristle. Caroline didn’t mean to sound so harsh; she lost her patience when she was worried. She couldn’t help it. And Cole did look and sound absolutely crazy.