Jamie sat in the backseat of the car with his arms crossed tightly over his chest. His eyes were red from crying, and he didn’t say a word the whole ride home. Lena was in the front seat, occasionally glancing back at him through the rearview mirror. She had a soft smile on her face, but her hands gripped the steering wheel a little too tightly.

When they arrived home, Jamie slammed the car door shut and stomped inside. He threw his backpack onto the couch and marched straight to his room. Lena followed him slowly, still wearing her gentle, motherly mask.

“Jamie,” she called softly, “don’t be upset, sweetheart....