“I think you need to sit down, sir,” Trenton said.

Dad’s face morphed from anger to rage, and Coby and Clark held onto him. “Did you just tell me to sit down in my own f**king house?” he said, screaming the last bit.

Finally Mom yelled, her voice breaking. “Enough! We’re not a bunch of wild animals! We have a guest! Sit down!”

“See what you’ve done?” Dad said to me. “You’ve upset your mother!”

“Felix, sit!” Mom yelled, pointing at Dad’s wooden chair.

He sat.

“I’m so sorry,” Mom said to Trenton. Her voice was shaking as she nervously situated herself in her seat. She dabbed her eyes with her cloth napkin, and then put it gently in her lap. “This is very embarrassing for me. I can just imagine how Camille must feel.”

“My family is pretty rowdy, too, Mrs. Camlin,” Trenton said.

Under the table, his fingers began to ease up from where they had dug into my knee. I hadn’t even noticed until that moment, but my fingers found their way to his, and I squeezed his hand tight. He squeezed back. His understanding made a wave of emotion crash over me, and I had to choke back tears. That feeling vanished quickly when Dad’s fork scraped against his plate.

“When were you going to tell us that you were mooching off your brother, Camille?”

I looked up at him, suddenly angry. I knew the blame was coming, but having Trenton beside me made me feel a surge in confidence I’d never felt around my father. “When I thought you would behave like a mature adult about it.”

Dad’s mouth fell open, and so did Mom’s.

“Camille!” Mom said.

Dad put his knuckles on the table and stood.

“Save your voice,” I said. “We’re leaving.” I stood, and Trenton stood with me. We walked to the front door.

“Camille Renee! Get your ass back to this table!” Dad said.

I pulled opened the door. It had chips and dents in the bottom of the wood where my father had kicked the door open or closed during his many tantrums. I paused before pushing the lever on the screen door but didn’t look back.

“Camille! I’m warning you!” Dad said.

I pushed open the door and tried not to sprint to the Intrepid. Trenton opened the passenger door, I got in, and then he walked around. He was rushing to get the keys into the ignition.

“Thank you,” I said, once he pulled away.

“For what? I didn’t do a damn thing,” Trenton said, clearly unhappy about it.

“For keeping your promise. And for getting me the hell out of there before Dad came out to get me.”

“I had to hurry. I knew if he made it out there and yelled at or threatened you one more time, I wouldn’t be able to keep my promise.”

“That was a waste of an afternoon off,” I said, staring out the window.

“Why did Chase push the issue? What was the point in starting all that shit?”

I sighed. “Chase has ongoing resentment toward Coby. My parents have always treated Coby like he could do no wrong. Chase loves to rub Coby’s addiction in everyone’s face.”

“So why did you bother going if you knew that he knew?”

I looked out the window. “Because someone needed to take the blame for it.”

It was quiet for a few moments, and then Trenton grumbled, “Coby sounds like a good candidate.”

“I know it sounds crazy, but I just need one of us to think they’re good parents. If we all hated the way we were raised, it makes it more real, you know?”

Trenton reached over for my hand. “It’s not crazy. I used to make Thomas tell me everything he remembered about Mom. I just have a few vague precious memories of her. Knowing his memories were more than just dreamlike, fuzzy moments made her more real to me.”

I pulled my hand from his and touched my fingers to my lips. “I’m so embarrassed but so grateful that you were there. I never would have spoken to my dad that way if you weren’t.”

“If you ever need me, I’m just a phone call away.” He snapped his fingers a few times, and then began singing—horribly—a very loud and heartfelt chorus from “I’ll Be There” by the Jackson 5.

“That’s a little high for you,” I said, stifling laughter.

He kept singing.

I covered my face, and then the giggling began. Trenton sang louder, and I covered my ears, shaking my head and feigning disapproval.

“ ‘Just look ova ya shoulders!’ ” he squawked.

“Both of them?” I asked, still giggling.

“I guess.” He shrugged. “Mikey really does say that.”

Trenton pulled into the parking lot of my apartment, and pulled into the spot next to my Jeep.

“You going out tonight?” I asked.

He turned to me, an apologetic frown on his face. “No. I need to start saving more money. I’m going to get a place of my own soon.”

“Won’t your dad miss your help with the rent?”

“I could move out now, but I’m saving up to help him, too. His pension ain’t that great.”

“You’re going to keep paying rent to your dad after you move out?”

Trenton picked at his steering wheel. “Yeah. He’s done a lot for us.”

Trenton was nothing like I thought he was. “Thanks again. I owe you one.”

One side of Trenton’s mouth turned up. “Can I make you dinner?”

“In order to pay you back, I would need to make you dinner.”

“You’re paying me back by letting me cook at your place.”

I thought for a minute. “Okay. Only if you bring me a list of groceries, and you let me buy.”

“Deal.”

I climbed out of the car and shut the door. The headlights painted my silhouette across the front of my apartment as I twisted the key in the dead bolt and then twisted the knob. I waved once to Trenton as he backed away, but then he pulled back into the parking spot, hopped out, and jogged to my door.

“What are you doing?”

“Isn’t that . . .” He nodded toward a car driving fast in our direction.

“It’s Coby,” I said, swallowing hard. “You’d better go.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

Coby’s electric-blue Camaro jerked to a stop behind both my Jeep and Trenton’s Intrepid, and he hopped out, slamming the car door. I wasn’t sure if I should insist he come inside so the neighbors wouldn’t hear, or keep it outside to prevent my apartment from being trashed.