When my mom got home that afternoon, she was full of news and it was all bad.

“We’ll pick up your sister when we go to see your dad on Saturday,” she said, after checking to make sure I hadn’t chopped off one of my arms from being left alone. I’d got changed so she couldn’t see that I was dirty and covered in bruises and cuts and also had a major sunburn. If she noticed, I planned to tell her that I went into the backyard to study. Ha. As if. There aren’t even any chairs back there. Just dirt and a few dead blades of grass.

I told her I was too busy to go, even though I a hundred percent wasn’t. She just ignored me.

“And I got a call from the school today. They wanted to know where you were.”

I was on the couch, staring at the game that I was now losing.

“I said you weren’t feeling well, but that you’d be back tomorrow.”

“No, I won’t,” I said.

“Rodney, if you don’t go to school, you’ll get referred to a truancy officer. The lady at your school told me all about it. If you miss another day without a doctor’s note, you can be arrested and taken to detention.”

I stared at her. Even though Ben and Fisherman told me about the rules, part of me thought they were exaggerating. They took kids to jail for missing school?

“That’s right,” she said. “That’s how they do things here.”

“You need to write me a note,” I said. “Say I’m busy. I’m riding my bike in a Rockin’ Energy Blitz commercial.”

“A what?”

“It’s an energy drink.”

“You are not allowed to drink those. And you are not busy. Rodney, these people aren’t fooling around about school attendance.” It was the first time she’d said something that wasn’t trying to put a positive spin on our new situation. That worried me. But not enough to make me go to school.

“Tell them I’m still sick. I am sick, technically. Sick of this town counts.”

My mom’s sigh was so big it practically made the curtains move.

“Rodney, you and your sister are understandably traumatized. But I don’t think the reporters will be back. The reaction to those photos and the video was not good.”

I felt my mouth fall open.

“What photos? What videos?”

“The ones of us. Especially you.”

“Us? Me?”

“People felt it was exploitative. I don’t think they’ll target us again.”

“There are pictures and videos?” I said again, like someone without ears.

“You don’t need to look. They’re in trash publications and on terrible websites. We didn’t do anything wrong. All we can do is keep moving forward and live our lives.”