The phone feels heavier than it should in my hand.

I stare at my mother’s name on the screen, my thumb hovering just above it, as if the glass itself might bite back. The room is silent behind me, too silent. Dre hasn’t moved. Tariq hasn’t spoken. They’re both waiting for the same thing.

For the truth to crack open.

I inhale once, sharply, then press call.

It rings twice.

Three times.

Just as I start to think she won’t answer, the line clicks.

“Karen?” My mother’s voice ...