It was a week before my thirteenth birthday, and Dad was supposed to pick me up from elementary school and drive me to swimming lessons. I'd sat there on the edge of the soccer field until darkness fell and the playground was a nest of shadows, then I shivered all through the walk home, because I hadn't worn a warm enough jacket. My swim gear weighed down my backpack almost as much as the heavy feeling in my gut that deepened with every step.

Talia was cooking dinner. I don't ...