I hear Julian’s voice calling me from the backyard. I close up the box as quickly as I can and carry the pans outside.

“Got ’em right here,” I say, my voice shaking. Not only would Julian string me up by my toenails if he thought I was snooping in his father’s things, but something isn’t sitting right with me. If they were friends, how come neither Julian nor I knew about it? Or did Julian know and maybe I’m the only one who didn’t? It doesn’t make any sense.

“Elijah!” I hear Ms. Birdie call from inside.

We follow her voice to the guest room. My room. Whatever.

“Yes, ma’am?” I ask. Julian is right behind me.

Ms. Birdie is standing by the nightstand with the bottle of Tramadol in her hand.

My stomach sinks to my knees.

“Have you been in my medicine cabinet?” she asks, a hint of disbelief in her voice. “I found these in the guest-room drawer when I was looking for more tablecloths.”

“No, ma’am. I… uh… I don’t know how…” I swallow hard, very aware of Julian behind me.

“I took them, Birdie,” he says, scooting by me and walking into the room.

My shoulders relax. The boulder that was forming in my gut eases just a little bit. He’s going to tell Ms. Birdie about his ribs, about the bruise. She’ll talk some sense into him.

“You took them?”

“When I was cleaning the bathroom the other day. I meant to throw them out, and I got distracted and didn’t. I threw them in there without thinking,” Julian says. “See, they’re almost expired.” I notice Julian’s pulse pounding at the side of his neck.

Ms. Birdie turns the pills over in her hand and looks at the label. “Oh, I see that,” she says.

“I should flush them down the toilet, right?” Julian says, taking the bottle from her hand. “Sorry I left them out like that.”

“That’s not like you,” she says. “You’ve been under too much pressure lately.” She sighs and shakes her head. “Come on now, boys. Let’s get all of this stuff in the car.” She walks out with a stack of white tablecloths in her arms.

Julian and I are alone. “Why didn’t you tell her the truth?”

Julian shakes his head. “I only took them once. I’m going to flush them, I promise. But I can’t tell her about my ribs. She’ll make me sit the game out.”

Exactly is what I want to say, but don’t.

“She believed my story, though. It’s okay,” Julian says. “You’re not in trouble.”