But what if Atlas is right about anyone I talk to being put into danger?

Of course, Dad could know some of this already. What if Mom did share some of her secret life? What if keeping the secret is part of the reason he continues to drink despite his promises to stop? Maybe he needs to talk to someone as much as I do.

Before I can stop myself, I ask, “Do you think you should verify that?”

Dad cocks his head to the side. “Should I what?”

I wait for some kind of reaction—fear, recognition. Something to tell me he’s heard the word before. But he just blinks twice as he looks at me. Disappointment stabs deep as I shake my head.

“It’s nothing,” I lie. “Just something we say at school to give each other a hard time.”

“Well, you can give me an even harder time when I’m barely able to move later.” He gives me a smile. “I’m headed to the office now. Let me know if you need me to pick up anything for dinner on my way home.” As he heads down the stairs, I can only stand there holding the coffee-mug peace offering, listening to the back door slam shut.

I change into tan shorts and a T-shirt that swirls with colors that remind me of the sunrise. Then I take the bag with the books Atlas gave me and go downstairs to the kitchen. Armed with another mug of coffee and a bowl of cereal, I pull out both books. The dictionary I set to the side. The other I place on the table.

United States History, Colonial America through Modern Day.

The faded mustard-yellow cover is slightly dented and the edges of the pages are warped. From the printing date I find inside it seems the “Modern Day” in the title is almost sixty years ago. Reading the table of contents page makes my eyes start to glaze over. Having just been through finals, I have zero desire to wade through dense paragraphs filled with events that happened before I was born. Since I’m certainly not going to read the whole thing without knowing what I’m looking for, I flip to the final chapter of the book, figuring that’s probably the most relevant. Shoving a spoonful of cereal into my mouth, I start reading the chapter titled “The Modern United States and the New Doctrine of Isolationism.”

The chapter is the shortest in the book. It takes up only a handful of slightly worn, occasionally torn, discolored pages. I chew as I read the dull words detailing how worry for national security caused the government to limit internet access to certain websites that the intelligence agencies flagged as suspicious. About the push for Congress to pass a new constitutional amendment declaring English to be the national language and laws that required all applicants for immigration to demonstrate an acceptable proficiency of the language in order to have their request considered.