The leftover propane was definitely gone now, so I tried a second time, dropping a lit match into the barbecue, then turning the dial. The flame caught with a smaller “whoompf” and I closed the lid.

“You want something for your hand?” Sarah asked.

“No, I think it’s okay.”

“Let me get something for it.” She headed upstairs to our bathroom, where she keeps first-aid supplies. From there she called down, “I’ve got some aloe here somewhere!”

The front door opened and Paul walked in. “Hey,” I said, standing in the front hall, holding my right hand with my left.

“Uhhn,” he said, walking past me. Then he noticed that the back of my hand was bright red. “Whadja do?”

“Barbecue,” I said.

“That button doesn’t work,” Paul said.

“I know.”

“When’s Mom getting home?”

“She’s home. She’s upstairs.”

“Car’s not here.” He tipped his head in the direction of the driveway.

“I know. But don’t say anything.”

“About what?”

“That the car’s not there. She doesn’t know the car’s not there.”

Paul looked at me. “What happened? Did you smash it up or something? Because I was gonna ask her to drive me over to Hakim’s after dinner.”

“I didn’t smash it up. I just moved it.”

Now he looked at me harder. “You’re doing something, aren’t you?”

“Maybe.”

“Don’t do another one of your lame-ass things, Dad. Are you trying to teach her a lesson or something? Because, like, we’re all tired of that kind of thing. What’d she do? Leave the keys in the car?”

“Not quite. But sort of. Just go into the kitchen and butter some hamburger buns.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“I didn’t ask if you were hungry. I asked you to butter—”

“I can’t find the aloe!” Sarah shouted from the bathroom.

“Don’t worry about it,” I said, but the truth was, the back of my hand was really stinging. “Maybe we’ve got something else. Like, I don’t know, isn’t butter supposed to help?”

“Butter? Where’d you hear that?”

“I don’t know. I just thought I had.”

“I’m going to go out and get some aloe.” She was coming down the stairs now, reaching into the closet for her jacket, grabbing her purse on the bench by the front door.

“Really, it’ll be fine.”

But Sarah wasn’t listening. She was rooting around in her purse, looking for her keys.

“Where the hell are my …” she muttered. She threw her purse back on the bench and strode into the kitchen. “I must have left them in here when I brought in the groceries… .”