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studying me, trying to find the lie. This was why filing the police report after the robbery was important, for the proof. I hoped they knew I wouldn’t file a false one to cover up damage to the car that was the result of my drinking. You see I used to drive tipsy all the time. I learned how. But my car still got dinged up a lot. I’d blame kids throwing around a ball, objects flying off the back of pickups, a runaway shopping cart, or a careless someone’s car door. You know people never leave a note if they won’t get caught, I’d say. Even while Captain Morgan was my blood type.
    “I figured the repair was within your deductible…” I searched my purse for the cop’s business card. “Mom?” I called out. I could hear her moving around in the kitchen. She stuck her head out from around the wall. “The car’s fine. You can go loo—”
    “We’re both just glad you weren’t in it at the time,” she said. She smiled but she gave me the same scrutinizing once-over my dad had.
    “Bye!” Tyler flew down the stairs a second later, buttoning his shirt. The thick scent of cologne floated into the room, too. I smiled at how he’d cleaned himself up so quickly: black hair combed back, shaven face, collared shirt, and clean jeans. Oh …this was for a girl .
    “Wait!” my mom yelled before he reached the door. “Curfew?”
    “One.”
    “No…” she said.
    “You guys let me stay out until one with the guys from the team last weekend!”
    “You were at your coach’s house,” my dad said. “And we’d known about that for weeks.”
    “What? I didn’t even know you were playing basketball this year…” I mumbled.
    “Yeah. Mom and Dad were at the last home game, which we won”—he looked at our parents pointedly—“and you guys saw me get elected co-captain for next year. Doesn’t that mean anything?”
    “Yeah. We’re proud of you. Tell Lola we said hi,” my mom said.
    I felt like I was at someone else’s house, watching someone else’s family. That stung. I walked over and stepped in front of Tyler. He veered around me, so I grabbed his arm. “Seriously, Ty, I can’t get five minutes?” I could never tell if my brother’s behavior toward me was teen shit or my shit. I mussed up his hair in the front. His jaw clenched as he pushed my hand away. He looked like he was mulling over what to say. “Well?” I urged.
    “I’ll come over soon,” he said, wriggling out of my grasp. “Bye.” Oookay.
    “Eleven, T!” Dad called out. I went to sit near him. My mom was leaning against the wall near the kitchen entry.
    “Big news!” I said. Maybe it was childish, but I wanted them to be excited about something in my life, too.
    “Me too,” my dad said. “You first.”
    “I got a dance job today! Working with kids on their musical. And it pays. I think it’s a good start. The guy who offered it was happy I said yes.”
    “Congrats, sweetheart,” my mom said.
    “Thanks.” I leaned toward my dad. “What’s your news?”
    He extended his prosthetic leg. It was different tonight—titanium I guessed, with a curved blade foot—not the skin-like one he used every day. “I got cleared to start running again.”
    “Oh, wow! I’m really happy for you.” I spoke haltingly to make sure my voice didn’t crack. Tears were already burning my eyes. My dad was getting his hobby back, exactly like he’d vowed he would. So much had been lost two years ago, and so much was still being rebuilt.
    Without saying anything, my mom spun and went into the kitchen. I swallowed down hard. I started to call after her and ask if she was all right, but what was the use? She’d brush it off as nothing. Like always.
    “T is already talking marathons for next year. I think he purposefully let me run our mile faster than he did tonight to coax me into signing up,” Dad said with a loud chuckle. It was good to hear him laugh again. Always good to hear it sound so hearty again. He’d come a long way from the