What Madeline hadn’t counted on—what, somehow, no one had bothered to explain during her time in college or while earning her teaching certificate—was that, sometimes, students didn’t want to endeavor to understand, or endeavor to do anything at all.

He’d boxed up all his records, after the books, after the stuff my mom didn’t want, like he was saving the best for last.

Cody’s dad hadn’t changed out of his army uniform in three months. . .

“. . . Children do not care about the sanctity of museums.”