“I said no.”
The teacher did not push.
Noah left school that afternoon without going to rehearsal.
When he reached home, Emily’s car was already in the driveway.
He found her in the kitchen doing homework.
She glanced at him.
Neither spoke.
Noah went upstairs.
A few minutes later, Emily appeared at his bedroom door.
“Dad texted me.”
Noah kept his eyes on his laptop.
“Okay.”
“He asked what happened.”
“What did you tell him?”
“The truth.”
Noah finally looked at her.
“Which version?”
Her face tightened.
“I did not break it.”
“Then who did?”
“I don’t know.”
“You were downstairs.”
“So were you eventually.”
“What does that even mean?”
“It means you keep acting like I owe you a confession because you want somebody to blame.”
Noah stood.
“I want the truth.”
“You want me to say I did it.”
“Did you?”
“No.”
He stared at her.
Emily stared back.
“You know what your problem is?” she said.
Noah laughed bitterly.
“Sure. Tell me.”
“You think that guitar makes you special.”
His expression changed.
Emily immediately looked like she wished she could take the sentence back.
But she continued.
“Ever since Mom died, everything has been about you and that guitar. Dad hears you play and suddenly he gets all emotional. Grandma hears you play and tells you how much you remind her of Mom. Everybody talks about how beautiful it is that Noah keeps Mom’s music alive.”
Noah’s voice became quieter.
“What does that have to do with anything?”
Emily’s eyes filled with tears she refused to let fall.
“What do I have?”
Noah blinked.
“What?”
“What did she leave me that makes everyone stop and remember her?”
“The jewelry box.”
Emily laughed without humor.
“Yeah. A box full of earrings I never wear.”
“She left those to you.”
“She left you herself.”
Noah stared at her.
“That’s not fair.”
“No. It isn’t.”
“She loved both of us.”
“I know that.”
“Then why are you acting like I stole something from you?”
Emily wiped quickly beneath one eye.
“I’m not.”
“Yes, you are.”
She backed out of the room.
Noah followed her into the hallway.
“Emily.”
“Leave me alone.”
“Did you break it?”
She stopped at the top of the stairs.
For a moment, she said nothing.
Then she looked over her shoulder.
“No.”
She walked away.
Daniel got home at 6:40.
He did not immediately ask either child what happened.
He changed out of his work shirt, washed his hands, reheated leftover chili, and sat at the kitchen table.
Emily stayed in her room.
Noah stayed in his.
At seven-fifteen, Daniel called them both downstairs.
The broken guitar was now on the dining-room table.
Daniel had placed an old towel beneath it.
He pointed to two chairs.
“Sit.”
Neither argued.
Daniel stood across from them.
“I’m going to ask once.”
He looked at Emily first.
“Did you break the guitar?”
“No.”
“Did you touch it this morning?”
“No.”
“Did you touch it last night?”
Emily hesitated.