I was not someone who ever really wanted to run, anywhere. I was so bad at sports my kindergarten teacher had once called home to talk to my parents about how I needed to work on my jumping. Dad used to love telling that story when my parents had their friends over. “Leah, how’s the jumping coming?” He’d chuckle with his friends. “We’re going to get her a jumping tutor.”

But I was bored and desperate enough that it almost seemed like it might be fun to get a muffin and hang out at Joe’s, even if it meant jogging afterward. So I found myself sleepy but awake at six thirty, tying my laces and pulling my hair into a tangled ponytail.

My parents were surprised to see me up.

“Oh. Are you going out somewhere?” Mom asked vaguely.

Dad looked me up and down, took note of my running shoes, and gave a quick nod of approval. “Need any cash?” he wanted to know. “You should never be anywhere without cab fare, remember. House rule.”

“I know, Dad.” I said. “But I have a bunch of birthday money left. I’m fine.” He didn’t seem to register that, and he pulled a twenty out of his wallet, sort of shoved it in my direction. So I took the cash and bent over to slide it down inside my sock.

“Sit down,” said Mom. “Let me make you breakfast. Pancakes?”

“Pancakes?” I said, looking up at her. “Really?”

“What’s wrong with pancakes?” Dad looked annoyed, but I wasn’t sure what I’d done, exactly.

“Nothing . . . I just . . .”

I couldn’t remember the last time my mom had made pancakes, even though they used to be a Sunday-morning ritual. With blueberries or chocolate chips. The house smelling a little smoky from the griddle, but in a nice way. I looked at my mom’s face and wondered what would happen if I said yes. If I just nodded. Would we really all sit down and eat pancakes together? Would the house smell warm and happy, like browned butter and crumbs? Would Dad pour way too much syrup on his, and laugh when Mom rolled her eyes?

Mom was still waiting.

I shook my head. “No, I’m good,” I said as I sort of edged past my dad, dug a water bottle out of the cabinet, and filled it at the sink. Then I waved goodbye and headed outside. The kitchen screen door slammed behind me.

The truth was that I was early to meet Liv, but pancakes or no pancakes, I really didn’t want to sit at the table and watch them chew and sip right now. Mom periodically trying to start a conversation. Dad staring at his phone. Dinner each night was plenty of that.