On Friday, Jenny drove home after school, pulling into my parents’ driveway just before dinner. The scent of home-cooked food drifted through the open windows, and as she stepped inside, the family was already gathered, waiting with expectant smiles.“Come in,” Brad said, opening the door. “Dinner’s just about ready.”“Good evening,” Jenny greeted everyone and sat across from me at the table—her usual spot. She seemed a little nervous, which was unusual for her lately.“Everything okay, dear?” Dad noticed.“Messyhair said everyone’s coming to visit our apartment tomorrow, but unfortunately, I won’t be able to be there,” she blurted out.“No problem, dear,” Mom reassured her. “Yes, I could only make time now.” So she took resp
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