Her being here means I won’t be able to see Dewey. My stomach suddenly feels so swimmy and nervous, I can barely swallow the bite of cheese I’ve been chewing.

Next, as if my anxiety wasn’t already steadily rising, the front door opens and we hear Mom come in. “Hello, my loves,” she calls out.

“Hey,” Mama says, standing up to give Mom a kiss on the cheek. “You’re home early too?”

“My last appointment got canceled ’cause of this storm that’s coming in, so”—she raises her arms out to the sides—“here I am!”

Terrific.

I twitch my head to the side and widen my eyes, trying to give Gramps a silent message—We need to talk! But it’s Noah who picks up on it.

“What’s that about?” he asks, imitating my head twitch.

“Nothing, just stretching.” I shake my shoulders out and turn my head from side to side. Noah makes a face and walks away.

“Psst, Gramps.” I tug on his sleeve and lead him into the hall. “What are we going to do?”

He shrugs. “Not much we can do.”

“She can’t stay out there by herself in this storm,” I whisper. “It’s only going to get worse.”

“She’ll be okay, Sass.”

“No, she won’t,” I argue. I wish everyone would stop saying that things are going to be okay. “Maybe now is the time?”

He squints like he’s not sure what I mean.

“To tell Moms about Dewey,” I explain. “They’re not going to make her stay out in the rain by herself. This is probably the best chance we’re going to get.”

“No”—he shakes his head fiercely—“not yet.”

“But Gramps—”

“Sass, what did I say?” His voice is stern, but not quite yelling. “Not. Now.”

“Hey,” Mom appears in the kitchen doorway, looking back and forth between us. “What’s going on with you two?”

Gramps raises his eyebrows and gives me the tiniest headshake so that Mom can’t see. “Don’t,” he whispers under his breath, widening his eyes at me.

I’m willing to risk the wrath of my moms if it means Dewey won’t have to spend another scared night outside, but as I look into Gramps’s eyes, I get a little scared of this new wrath of his I never knew existed before the other night.

I look back and forth between them, and I clench my jaw muscles so hard my back molars ache. “Nothing,” I finally mutter. But it isn’t nothing. It’s a lot of things: it’s Dewey being stuck in the storm; it’s me telling Moms another load of applesauce; it’s me worrying if Gramps will be mad. It’s too much.