Sometimes parents are like wild animals. If you don’t make any loud noises or sudden movements, they’ll forget you’re there and leave you be. I was pretty sure that Dad’s something at the zoo was a day camp for little kids. Like a petting zoo with snack and nap time. And I did not want to spend the summer hunched over a computer, learning to code lame video games with a bunch of grubby ten-year-old boys. But I also didn’t think I was going to help my case any by arguing with my parents, so I kept my mouth shut.

Now Mom had her phone out and was scrolling through it quickly. I wondered what exactly she’d googled.

Aimless thirteen-year-old activities

Last-minute summer camp ideas

Moms who screw up and forget about vacation

After a minute, she glanced up from the phone to stare at me. “What do you think, Leah? What would you be interested in? Soccer, maybe? Or you could volunteer somewhere? Theater? You used to like putting on little plays, didn’t you? With Tess?”

I stuck a bite of chicken in my mouth and made a sound that might have been I dunno but also might have been leave me alone.

“The thing is,” said Mom, turning back to Dad again, “even if we found something, how would we get her there? Who would drive, if we’re both at work?” She looked at Dad. “Do you think you could manage to . . .”

Dad shook his head. “Maybe we could find something on the bus line?”

“Oh, Paul. Nobody actually takes the bus. But maybe . . . maybe she’s old enough to be alone. I was babysitting at her age. Do you think you’re ready for that, Leah?”

Before I could answer, Dad rose from his chair. “Hey, sorry,” he said. “I know I started this up, but can we figure it out tomorrow? I need to get to darts.”

“Darts” was the once-a-week dart game he played with some other dads on the block, in bars around town. It was a tradition.

“I guess—sure, that’s fine,” said Mom. She set her phone on the table and poked at whatever it was but didn’t take a bite.

Watching her, I couldn’t help thinking that Mom always needed something to do with her hands. She always needed something to hold. To fidget with. Why was that? Why couldn’t she ever just be?

Dad gave a quick wave to no one in particular and turned to go. Mom raised her water glass to him as the kitchen door opened and closed. Then the room was quiet again.