“A rule,” his father said. He inhaled through the cigarette, then blew smoke around his words. “You know, if you’re so concerned about kids, you might think to call us when our son just shows up by himself, without an adult.”

“I think,” Mrs. Woodrow said, “that I do a very good job of babysitting your son, and that it’s your responsibility to make sure he stays in your home when you’re there. Now, would you please put out that cigarette?”

His father sucked hard, and then in one swift motion plucked the cigarette from his teeth as if it had roots, threw it down onto the grass, and stepped on it.

Jennifer put a single chip onto Frankie’s plate.

“That’s it,” his father said. “Come on.”

Frankie ate the chip.

She dug into the bowl again, and brought another chip across the table. His father was reaching down to haul him up by the arm, but he closed his hand over Jennifer’s arm instead, and hissed, “Stop it.”

“Hey!” Mrs. Woodrow snapped.

He let go.

Jennifer looked startled, but she wasn’t hurt. She pulled her hand back and looked at Frankie and stuck the chip into her mouth.

“You don’t touch my daughter!”

“I didn’t hurt her,” Frankie’s father said.

“Who do you think you are? No one roughhouses my daughter! Do you realize how frail she is?” Mrs. Woodrow stepped forward, waving the chlorine tester in front of her. “Get off my property!”

“Jesus,” his father said. And then, more loudly, “That’s what I’m trying to do.”

“Then go! I’m sorry, Frankie, I know this is awkward, but your father really does need to leave now, and I think you should go with him.”

Frankie looked across the table at Jennifer. “Bye,” he said.

“Bye,” Jennifer said.

His father turned to leave, and Frankie got up from the picnic table.

They didn’t talk during the short ride home. In their driveway his father turned off the engine, but instead of getting out, he just sat there, one hand resting on top of the steering wheel, his gaze fixed on something beyond Frankie’s side window.

Frankie said, “Sorry.”

“You know,” his father said, “I’m just trying to do my job here.”

Frankie nodded.

“You’re the one who’s supposed to stick around. You’re the one I can depend on. Your brothers and your sister, every day they’re off somewhere—”

“They’re allowed,” Frankie said.

“Yes. They’re allowed. But you’re not, because you’re not old enough. And you know that. I thought we had a project going on here. I thought we were a team.”

“Is Mrs. Woodrow still my babysitter?”