It looked like he’d melted down into the cushions he’d been there so long, clutching the remote in one hand. I could see that glassy look in his eyes that came from binge watching TV.

This was going to be a student fair type thing with a bunch of high schoolers, but it might do Connor some good to get out of the house and away from Nickelodeon for a little while.

SURE, I signed to Mom, tucking the car keys in the back pocket of my jeans. BRING HOME PIZZA FOR DINNER?

There was never a bad time for pizza, and this way Mom wouldn’t have to tear herself away from work to make dinner.

Mom nodded in agreement and dug around in her purse for a few crumpled bills which she passed over to me. I tucked those away in my back pocket too.

“Hey, squirt,” I said to Connor, sitting down on the couch next to him. “What do you say to going to a student fair with me at my school?”

Connor propped himself up on an elbow, his eyes narrowing at me in suspicion. “What’s . . . student fair?”

Good question.

“Um. It’s a super fun event they do for school clubs. Lots of music and candy and stuff.”

This was a bogus lie, so hopefully they did have candy there. If Beau was in charge of the event, probably he’d be there throwing more Snickers at people.

The word candy seemed to do the trick, and Connor perked right up.

“Okay!” I watched him say excitedly, carefully getting to his feet. He pointed to the corner of the living room where we kept a giant box of spare oxygen tanks for him and signed, HELP ME?

Connor went to fetch the backpack he used for his smaller, portable oxygen tanks when he didn’t want to wheel one around, and we got him situated with a tank and a new cannula before we said our good-byes to Mom and left the house.

I kept an eye on Connor in the rearview mirror on our way to Engelmann. I felt a growing sense of relief to see some color coming back into his cheeks.

Most student events at Pratt were typically held in the gym due to its massive size, so it was a bit of a surprise to see Engelmann’s student fair taking place smack dab in the middle of the parking lot.

As I drove down the street looking for a parking spot I could see the marching band in their vibrant green uniforms with their glistening instruments, a balloon arch or two, and a bunch of tables set up to advertise school clubs or sports teams.

I spent a few nerve-wracking minutes trying to parallel park the van down the street and gave myself a mental pep talk as I helped Connor get his backpack and oxygen tank situated.