“It was just a silly prank,” Harper whispered, her voice rough. “Someone threw a bucket of water on the porch.”
“At Mia’s house?” I asked.
“Yes,” she said, her fingers twisting the silver heart necklace. “It was just a joke.”
She left her wet shoes on the mat and pushed past me, heading toward the stairs.
“Harper, your jacket is dripping,” I said, reaching out to touch her sleeve.
“Leave me alone, Mom,” she said, her voice sharp as she pulled away.
She ran up the stairs, her bare feet making a soft, rhythmic patter on the wood, before her bedroom door closed.
I stood alone in the quiet hallway while the basement dryer hums.
The morning sun came through the frosted bathroom window, casting pale, cold squares across the yellow linoleum floor.
I had gone in to gather the week’s bath towels, carrying the green plastic laundry basket that usually stayed in the dark hallway of the basement.
Instead of the pile of damp cotton I expected, my foot brushed against Harper’s yellow corduroy jacket.
