Gram slowly opens her eyes. She smiles at me. “Will you tell your dad and mom that dinner is almost ready?”

My heart beats as fast as a hummingbird’s wings. How can she look so normal after telling me such a terrible story?

13. Skull

Our skulls safeguard our brains from the outside world. But sometimes, like in a car accident, the very thing that’s supposed to protect the brain actually injures it. The force of the accident can cause the brain to slam against the bones of the skull, causing a concussion. The effects of a traumatic brain injury can cause long-term damage.

I think of this, and I think of how parents are supposed to protect their children. I think of Gram’s friend Jacob and how he must have felt all those years ago when the person who was supposed to protect him hurt him instead.

I’m on my way to tell my parents that dinner is ready when my phone buzzes.

Olivia: I’m sorry I had to leave without helping with the horses

Olivia: Did you ask your gram about

Olivia: the passports and the journal??

Me: Not yet. She just told me a really sad story and I found a picture of her in Russia when she was like our age. I don’t know what to do. Should I ask her?

Olivia: NOOOO!! What if she’s

Olivia: a spy??????

Olivia: She might have to tell the government

Olivia: that you know. You could put her and your family

Olivia: in danger!!!!!

I roll my eyes. Did I really think I would get advice instead of her wild theories?

Me: She’s not a spy!!!!! Ugh, Olivia. Just stop with that stuff.

Olivia: Fine, but you should listen to me. Did you hear back from Max yet?

Me: Not yet.

Olivia: Do you need me to come over? I can have my mom drop me off. I could spend the night

Me: Let me ask my dad

I find Dad in his office. “Gram says it’s time for dinner.”

Dad looks up from his desk, which is covered with papers. He has the faraway look he gets when he’s grading homework. “Thanks, hon. Can you ask her to bring me a plate?”

“Can Olivia spend the night?”

He nods, not really hearing me. “Sure, okay.”

“Can we go to the park?”

He nods again. “Yeah, sounds good.”

A good thing about a distracted dad is he always says yes to everything.

Mom’s lips pinch shut when I say Dad wants to eat in his office. She takes a quick taste of the spaghetti while she makes him a plate. Her hand flies to cover her mouth. “How long did you cook the pasta, Sue?”

My stomach jumps to my throat and then free-falls to my toes. I know before I take a bite that the spaghetti noodles aren’t right.