Jake shrugged.
“You lose stuff.”
Milo turned.
“No, I don’t.”
David looked between them.
“What’s going on?”
“Nothing,” Jake said.
Milo stared at him.
Three years of being careful snapped.
“He took it.”
Sarah froze.
Jake laughed.
“What?”
“You took my drawing.”
“Why would I care about your stupid drawing?”
David’s voice changed.
“Jake.”
“I didn’t.”
Milo ran upstairs.
He returned carrying one thing.
A corner of thick paper.
It had been sticking out beneath Jake’s mattress.
Jake’s face went pale.
Sarah took it.
“That’s from Milo’s drawing.”
“No.”
Milo whispered, “He tears my things.”
Silence.
Sarah looked at him.
“How long?”
