That’s the one I send. My words sit there staring back at me, all mean and selfish and not explaining anything. But I can’t take them back now. I start typing to explain, but Gramps is calling me downstairs.

“One minute, Gramps,” I yell back.

“No, Sadie,” he says. “Come now.”

There’s something serious in his tone. Plus, he called me Sadie.

I abandon my explanation and race down the stairs, yelling, “Gramps, what’s wrong?” But he doesn’t need to answer, because I see what’s wrong, and my heart drops all the way into my stomach.

Chapter 30

THE PIZZA HITS THE FLOOR (CHEESE SIDE DOWN)

Mama is standing in the living room holding a plastic bag filled with takeout. “I thought I’d bring you soup on my lunch break, seeing as you were feeling so sick this morning.”

Dewey is sitting in her bed, watching Mama. Oh no, Dewey thinks, and lets out a little whimper.

Mama sets the food on the kitchen table and says, in her firm teacher voice, “So does anyone care to explain to me why there is a dog in our living room?”

“Mama, I—”

“Wait.” Gramps holds his hand up. “Let me explain.”

Gramps spills the whole story, except the way he tells it makes it sound more like it was my idea. And I wonder if he’s trying to blame me or if that’s really how he remembers it. My face gets hot, and I feel mad and sad all at once.

Mama listens, and when he finishes with how Dewey ended up in my bed this morning, she doesn’t say anything. She goes to the cupboard and takes down three bowls and spoons and begins unpacking the takeout.

“So we have wonton, egg drop, and hot and sour,” she says.

“But, Mama—” I begin.

She stops me. “I need to think, Sadie. Eating helps me think.”

I’m silent as I watch Mama pour herself a bowl of hot and sour soup—her favorite.

I sit on the floor next to Dewey’s bed. She shifts and sits in my lap, her poor foxtail shivering.

I’m scared. Do I have to leave?

“It’s okay,” I whisper. “It’s going to be okay.”

Only I don’t know that for sure, so of course Dewey can tell.

Gramps lets out a long sigh as he joins Mama at the table, and pours himself some egg drop. They both start eating, and the only noise in the entire house is the sound of spoons scraping bowls, followed by an occasional slurp.

At last, I hear Mama’s chair legs scrape against the floor, and she walks toward me. Neither Dewey nor I can look her in the eye. She sits on the couch and holds her hand out to Dewey.

“C’mere, you,” Mama says softly.