“You have more control than you think,” she said. “And part of that control is knowing how to respond to the facts.”

“I think I’d just like to listen,” I said. I heard a kid in the group therapy say that when Lindsay asked him to share. I liked the way it sounded.

“Oh, Rodney,” said Elizabeth. Then she sighed, but in a way that wasn’t mad. It was more patient and understanding. “There’s nothing you’d like to say before we begin the family meeting? Nothing you’d like to say about how this situation has affected you? Questions about what happened and what the future might bring? This is an opportunity for all of you to speak up.”

When I spoke, I said something I didn’t expect. I’m not telling you to make you feel bad. It’s just what happened. “I don’t understand why my friends aren’t getting back to me.” I said friends, but I meant you. After the first few days, I stopped texting Trelawny and Emily and Monty. All we really had in common was the name ending in y thing, now that I think about it.

“That must hurt,” said Elizabeth.

“I guess.”

She waited for me to say more.

“I’ve messaged my friend Larry a bunch of times. He never gets back to me. No one does.”

“I’m sorry,” said Elizabeth.

“Maybe he’s busy,” I said, because I didn’t want to be mad at you, even though I was really, really mad at everyone. And you.

“Maybe it will just take time.”

“For what?” I asked.

“For your friends to process. They might not know how to handle this.”

What did that mean? What was “this”? I was the one whose dad was in treatment for something he didn’t even do, and I was the one who had to move away.

“I wish Larry would come here. Like Kate’s friends did. We’ve been friends since we were in preschool.”

Elizabeth looked at me and her gray eyes looked sort of sad, which made me wish I’d never said anything. I hate making people look sad.

Elizabeth leaned toward me. She smelled like a field with flowers in it.

“Rodney, I want you to know that you can handle this. No matter what’s happening in your family or in your school, or with your friends, you can handle it. The feelings that come up might not feel good, but they are important. They are real.”

“Okay,” I said. I hoped Missy Stephenson and anyone else who accused my dad wasn’t feeling good either. They were going to feel especially terrible when my family sued them and got all their money.

“I need to speak to your sister, briefly,” she said. “And then it’s time for our meeting.”