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But Caden is going to be all right. They said so. It was just a superficial wound.” My mouth was running on even though my mind was telling me to shut it. “You know little boys. They fall off things all the time.” I looked through a smear of tears at my father moving around indoors. “It’s not my fault that Caden went into his mother’s bedroom, is it?”
    Mom’s turned to glare at me. “You didn’t see his mother’s face when she got that call from the paramedics.”
    She slammed the car door and walked into the house.
    The cooling metal of the car ticked under the hood.
    I turned to grab my backpack from the backseat. Then I remembered it was still at the kids’ house. And my phone was on the floor where I had dropped it when I dashed upstairs.
    I dragged myself into the house.
    When she dropped Emerson off later, Cynthia hardly looked at me. Mom gave Emmy a bowl of soup and tucked her in on the study futon.
    I wanted to creep under my covers. But I didn’t want to be alone. So I stayed downstairs, hardly speaking while Mom told Dad the whole story. Mom finally pushed her plate aside. She had barely eaten anything. Dad dumped his salad back in the bowl. “So no phone for a month,” he said.
    â€œThat’s so not fair,” I said. “What if you need to reach me?” I stabbed my fork into a lettuce leaf and held it up. “What about Selena and Josie? I need to keep in touch with them. Since you dragged me here, they are the only friends I’ve got.”
    â€œAnd whose choice is that?” asked Mom. “Anyway, I thought you and Chloe were friends now?” “It’s Cleo!” When I shoved the table, my cutlery jumped. “How many times do I have to tell you?”
    Dad gathered the dishes. “Your mother and I are not going to change our minds, Daria. I doubt very much you were talking to your friends for only a few minutes.” When I opened my mouth to speak, he held up his hand. “Mom is concerned. I am too. We’ve let it slide for too long. But now it’s a real problem.”
    â€œLet what slide? What are you talking about?”
    â€œYour dependence on your phone. What amounts to an addiction. Do you know how little time you actually spend speaking to us, face-to-face? You would rather be texting your friends or watching those damn YouTube videos than spending time with your own parents.”
    Addiction? I had heard that somewhere recently. “That is such crap!” Dad winced, so I said it again, louder. “Crap,” I said. “I talk to you. I watch TV .”
    â€œIt’s more than that, Daria. Everything you do or say or engage in is filtered through that damn phone.”
    â€œYou bought it for me.”
    â€œThat’s not the point,” he said, his voice rising. He ran his hand through his hair.
    â€œSo what is the point?” I asked.
    â€œYou always seem to be somewhere else. Instead of here.” His hand slapped the table. “With the people around you. With whatever is going on. It’s as if every text or call or Facebook posting is more important than what’s happening here and now.”
    â€œThat’s so not true!”
    â€œIsn’t it?” Dad stood up. “Not only were you not in the room with the children you were babysitting. You weren’t even in the house.”
    â€œI was so!”
    â€œPerhaps you were there in body,” Mom chimed in. “But your mind? It wasn’t anywhere near that little boy when he hurt himself.” She leaned so close, I could feel her breath. “You might as well have been in Timbuktu for all the help you were to that child.”

Chapter Ten
    All night, the covers kept bunching up. One minute, my room was too hot, then too cold. Every sound was louder than usual—the creak of my parents’ door as they finally went to bed, the fridge cutting in and out. Every few