His mother followed, unprompted, and sat next to her. There was a chair opposite them that had clearly been set aside for him.

For an instant, Brandon felt something other than the knot, with its constant threat of nausea. He thought about arriving at his grandmother’s house; the one place that had felt like anything resembling a sanctuary, packed up and thrown into the same plastic bags that his mother used for trash. He thought about the timing; of this dismantling of this one part of his life that was — or seemed — uniquely his, made by him — and un-done behind his back. He thought about his mother and Llewelyn making only furtive eye contact as they rumbled toward his aunt’s house. They know what they did.