“You guys are going to be late! Mr. Andrews isn’t going to wait out there forever,” Michael yelled from the kitchen. Jeff yawned and ran a hand through his hair one last time in an effort to straighten it into something halfway respectable. David yanked on his arm. Mornings were always chaotic when their stepmom, Paula, was away on business. “Come on. Dad said we’re going to be late,” his brother urged. Jeff snorted. “Yeah, yeah.” Stepping into the hallway he swung his backpack over his shoulder and headed for the door, David following close behind. “Guys?” Michael shouted. He walked into the hallway, his metallic leg creaking. “There you are. You need to get going.” The school bus honked again. “Let’s go . . .” He gestured them toward the door, opening it and waving at Mr. Andrews. “Hey,” Michael said, turning to face the boys. He leaned forward and put his hands on both their shoulders.
