Marah wrenched free, and ran upstairs, slamming the door shut behind her.

“Lucas,” Johnny said. “Stop teasing your brother. And stay back from the glass on the floor.”

Kate sighed and reached for a towel.

The next day, Kate pulled into the school drive-through lane just three minutes before the lunch bell rang. Parking illegally, she hurried into the office, signed Marah out for the day, and then walked down to her classroom. Last night, after the moment of conversation and connection between them, Marah had shut Kate out again. No amount of prompting could restart the engine, and so Kate had had to formulate plan B. A surprise attack.

Peering through the rectangular glass window, she knocked once, saw the teacher wave at her, and went inside.

Most of the kids smiled at her and said hello. That was one of the benefits of constant volunteering: everyone knew you. All the kids looked happy to see her—or at least happy for this disruption in class.

All the kids except one.

Marah’s face wore the what-are-you-doing-at-school-embarrassing-me grimace. Kate was more than familiar with it. She knew the middle school rules: parents should be invisible.

The bell rang and the kids ran from the room, talking loudly.

When they were alone, Kate went to Marah.

“What are you doing here?”

“You’ll see. Get your things. We’re leaving.”

Marah stared up at her, obviously assessing the situation from every possible social angle. “Okay. I’ll meet you at the car, okay?”

Ordinarily Kate would make a comment about that and force Marah to walk out with her, but her daughter was emotionally fragile right now. That was why Kate was here. “Okay.”

The easy victory surprised Marah. Kate smiled at her, touched her shoulder. “See you in a minute.”

Actually, it took a bit longer than that, but not much. In no time, Marah was in the passenger seat, buckling up. “Where are we going?”

“Well, first we’re going out to lunch.”

“You got me out of school to have lunch?”

“And something else. A surprise.” Kate drove to the diner-style restaurant that was next door to the brand-new multiplex theater on the island.

“I’m going to have a cheeseburger, fries, and a strawberry milkshake,” Kate said when they were seated.

“Me, too.”

After the waitress took their orders and left, Kate looked at her daughter. Slouched down in the blue vinyl seat, she looked thin and angular, a girl bursting into adolescence. Her black hair, messy and unkempt now, would someday be a crowning glory, and her brown eyes revealed every nuance of emotion she felt. Now she looked bereft.

The waitress delivered their shakes. Kate took a sip. It was probably her first ice-cream product since the twins’ birth and it tasted like Heaven. “Ashley still being mean to you?” she finally said.

“She hates me. I don’t even know what I did to her.”