I throw my hands up and stomp out into the living room with Kiera close behind. “What’s the point of us all living on the same street if I can’t snoop on you two?”

Kiera and I spend the rest of the night in the living room, working on our projects. Kiera’s super organized and has color-coded note cards and glitter glue framing each picture on her poster board of Jungkook and his K-pop band, BTS.

“Quite the operation you’ve got going on, Kiera,” says Dad.

“I take my K-pop bands and schoolwork equally serious,” she says in a stern voice.

“Who’d you choose for your project, Sweet Pea?” He thumbs through the pictures Mom helped me print out. “Aretha, huh? She’s a classic. A little before your time. I’m surprised you’ve heard of her.”

I feel a little self-conscious, like maybe I should have picked someone else that I know a little more about. “Like you said, she’s a classic.”

We work on our projects for a little while longer, and I try to show Kiera America’s Most Haunted, but she’s not as into it as Oscar and I are, so we settle on the latest episode of some reality show about little girls in beauty pageants.

After a few hours, Mom’s still not home, but it’s time for Kiera to go. The three of us pile up in Dad’s truck and drive to the edge of town, where the newest houses in Valentine are. Even though it’s just Kiera and her parents, they live in a five-bedroom with a pool that Dad always called a McMansion.

As Kiera’s hopping out of the truck, her dad opens the front door, and I can feel my dad tense beside me.

It’s so weird to see Dad be nervous about anything or anyone.

Mr. Bryant coughs into his fist as Kiera runs through the doorway and past him. He stands there for a moment before saying, “Thanks, Andre, for uh, dropping her off.”

Dad nods. “Not a problem.”

And that’s it. I almost want to scream at Mr. Bryant to come over here and just talk to Dad. He’s the same person he was last year or the year before. Right?

But still, just those few words between them makes something in Dad’s posture ease as we drive home under the glow of stars.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Home Sweet Home

At breakfast on Tuesday morning, Mom’s sunflowers are on full display. Ever since last night, Mom and Dad are both buzzier than normal, and their vibes are pretty contagious.

I guess that’s why there’s an extra bounce in my step as I stop at Miss Flora Mae’s mailbox to drop off the package of letters for Mr. Joe, including my own letter, which I typed up on the typewriter early this morning.

Just as I’m shutting the door of the mailbox, a dusty black car turns down the street and into the driveway beside me, making a clunking noise as it bottoms out.