The upholstery was badly worn.
She smiled when she saw him.
“Hey, Ethan.”
Then she saw me.
Then the large package.
Her expression changed.
“What’s that?”
Ethan suddenly looked like he wanted to disappear.
“Um…”
Sophie raised an eyebrow.
“What?”
He cleared his throat.
“It’s for you.”
“For me?”
“Yeah.”
I tried not to smile at how red his ears had become.
“What is it?”
Ethan finally blurted:
“A wheelchair.”
Sophie stared.
“What?”
“A new one.”
Silence.
She looked at the box.
Then Ethan.
Then me.
“What do you mean, a new wheelchair?”
Ethan shifted his weight.
“Your old one isn’t working right.”
Her eyes widened.
“You noticed?”
“Everybody noticed.”
Then quickly:
“I mean—not everybody.”
He winced.
“That sounded bad.”
Despite herself, Sophie laughed once.
Then her mother appeared behind her.
Jillian.
She was wiping her hands on a dish towel.
“Sophie, who—”
She saw us.
