“Tyler, you can’t run off without telling them.”
“I rode my bike.”
“In the snow?”
He looked down.
I sighed. “Are you hurt?”
“No.”
“What are you doing here?”
He held out the bag.
“I brought these for Emma and Noah.”
Noah appeared behind me. Emma beside him.
Tyler swallowed hard.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
The words were clumsy, rushed, almost swallowed by the cold air.
Emma’s face went guarded.
Noah’s went blank.
Tyler looked at them, not at me.
“I shouldn’t have said that. About you not being good enough. Dad laughed, and I thought…” He stopped. His eyes shone with embarrassment. “I thought if everyone laughed, then it was okay.”
Noah’s hand curled around the compass in his pocket.
“It wasn’t,” Emma said.
“I know.”
“Did Grandma tell you to say it?” Noah asked.
Tyler’s face twisted.
“No. But she said before you came that some kids need to learn they aren’t the center of everything. Dad said Aunt Julia always makes drama. I wanted them to think I was funny.”
