I knew exactly where her EpiPen was kept.

I’d been responsible for checking it every day for years.

When I entered Nicole’s hallway to hang the backpack in its usual place, she turned on me again.

“Get out.”

I stared at her.

“I’m just putting Ruby’s things away.”

“I said get out of my house!”

She placed both hands against my chest and shoved me backward toward the porch.

Then she pointed at my car.

“And take those booster seats out! My children are never riding with you again!”

Through the doorway, I could see Ruby sitting on the stairs with her hands pressed against her ears.

I didn’t argue.

I walked outside.

A moment later, my phone rang.

It was our mother.

Of course it was.

Nicole always called Mom whenever she wanted someone to take her side.

“Micah,” Mom sighed, “your sister is under enormous stress. You aren’t a mother, so you don’t understand.”

I closed my eyes.