Adam was twirling a small brass chess pawn between his thumb and forefinger. He kept his eyes on the metal piece, turning it over and over so the faint yellow light from the streetlamp outside caught its polished collar. It was the only piece he had left from the old set they had abandoned in the Columbus house during the rush to pack.
“Are they going to take his side?” Adam asked, his voice cracking slightly on the last word. He did not look up from the brass pawn.
Lauren sat on the edge of the vinyl armchair, her knees almost touching his shoulder. The fabric of the chair was torn at the seam, exposing a tuft of yellow foam that she had tried to tuck back in a dozen times. “Your grandparents want the truth, Adam. They came all the way from Indianapolis because they want to understand what is happening.”
