Dad finally folded the newspaper with a chuckle. “Come on, buddy. School’s not that bad, and first days aren’t as horrible as you think,” he said, ruffling Blake’s hair. “You’ll make friends before you know it. You’ll find your rhythm. You might even have fun.”

Blake’s jaw tightened further, and for a moment, I thought he might snap back, but instead, he just nodded stiffly. It was the kind of nod that meant end of conversation.

Dad gave me a helpless look.

Finally, I couldn’t stand it any longer. “Blake,” I started, my voice filled with concern, “what’s wrong?”

His face twisted in frustration, and he let out a sharp breath. “I’m one year older than you.”

I frowned, trying to catch up with his thoughts. “Yeah, so?”

“So,” he bit out, his expression hardening, “I’ll be in a different grade than you.”

I nodded, still trying to piece together what he was getting at. “Yeah…” I said slowly, offering a confused half-smile. “And?”

He threw his hands up in the air, the motion exaggerated, as if the very thought was too much to bear. “And I’m not going tomorrow,” he announced, his tone flat.

Mom, who had just poured herself a cup of coffee, didn’t look up immediately. She stirred in a bit of sugar, completely unaware of the weight behind his words. “What’s that? You’re not going?” she asked absently.

She probably assumed Blake was joking. But when she did glance over, her stirring slowed, then stopped altogether. The seriousness in his eyes hit her like a cold splash of water.

Dad tilted his head, confusion sweeping over him. “You have to go. It’s the first day of school,” he said, trying to reason with him. “You’re enrolled now. It’s time to start.”

“I won’t go,” Blake repeated. “Not unless I’m with Beverly.”

There was a pause. A long one.

I could practically feel Dad’s amusement in the way he leaned back in his chair, glancing at Mom as if to say, Can you believe this?

“He’s just joking,” he told her, chuckling under his breath.

But Blake didn’t smile. He didn’t look like he was trying to be funny. He didn’t even blink.

That’s when Dad’s laughter died.

He had been expecting some kind of smirk, some giveaway that Blake was just being difficult for the sake of it, but the look on Blake’s face was so different from what Dad was used to that I could see the realization dawn in his eyes.

“It’s not how things work, Blake.” Dad sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “You’re just nervous. That’s all.”

“I’m not nervous.”

“You can’t always depend on Beverly.”

“I’m not depending on her.”