Mom was on the couch watching a movie with Connor, who already looked like he was falling asleep. Looking at him I felt a pang of sadness zip through me. He was having a really tough go of it. I’m sure the thought had already occurred to Mom, but maybe it was time to reach out for some help and get another home health care provider for Connor worked into our schedule.

WE GO T-O PARK LATER, Mom signed to me as I put on my jacket.

FUN, I signed, forcing a smile. It was supposed to be another crisp autumn day, but it would be good for Connor to get out of the house for some fresh air.

SEE YOU LATER, I signed, and bent down to plant a kiss on Connor’s forehead. He waved halfheartedly, torn between his movie and rest.

It was a ten-minute drive to Nina’s. The majority of houses in her neighborhood seemed upscale, the lawns well-kept and cars in the driveways that cost more than a year’s college tuition. Nina’s house was at the end of a cul-de-sac, a brown, two-story home with a porch swing and a row of potted plants leading up to the front door.

The door swung open while I was on my way up the walkway to the porch and Nina stepped outside, dressed as nicely as she always was at school.

She ushered me inside as she signed, HELLO.

NICE HOME, I signed, inspecting my surroundings.

The décor was made up of soft cream colors, with leather furniture in the living room and an impressive flat screen TV mounted on the wall above their fireplace. Nina had never mentioned what her parents’ jobs were, but I was willing to bet those jobs paid very well.

“Go ahead . . . shoes,” Nina said, gesturing to the neat shoe rack beside the front door.

I was embarrassed about my mismatched cartoon socks when I took my shoes off, but Nina didn’t seem to notice. I followed after her as she rounded the corner, away from the living room.

I assumed we were going to set up camp at the massive bar in the kitchen where Nina’s history textbook and notebook were, so I set my backpack down on one of the barstools. Nina got us some water bottles from the fridge, and I saw her say, “Hey,” when she swung the fridge door shut.

I looked over my shoulder and saw a woman who was obviously Nina’s mother, dressed in brightly-colored exercise clothes, walk into the kitchen. Her hair was the same color as Nina’s, pulled back into a high ponytail, and she had similar square-framed glasses.

“Mom, this . . .” Nina was saying, gesturing to me. “She’s . . .”

I was caught off guard when Nina’s mom turned my way and signed, HELLO. NICE T-O MEET YOU, with a pleasant smile.

SAME, I signed, still taken aback. YOU SIGN?