“You know what I mean.”
“No.
I know what you want.
You want me to make this smaller so Briana doesn’t have to live with how big it is.”
My father shook his head.
“You always have to turn everything into some old scorecard.”
I pointed toward the ER doors.
“My six-year-old has a fractured skull.”
Nobody answered.
“You asked Briana whether she was okay before you checked on Chloe.”
My father looked away.
“Mom told me to calm down while my daughter was on the ground.
Then she worried about the scratch on Briana’s bumper.”
My mother’s lips tightened.
“I was in shock too.”
“Maybe.
But now you’ve had time.
And you’re still protecting the same person.”
Briana started crying then.
Real tears this time.
They ran beneath her eyes and left dark tracks through her makeup.
“I didn’t mean to hurt her.”
It was the first sentence she had said all day that sounded like it might contain remorse.
I wanted desperately to believe it.
Then she added, “But you’re acting like I’m some monster.”
And there it was.
The center of the story shifted back to her again.
Her fear.
Her reputation.
Her consequences.
I did not raise my voice.
“I don’t need you to be a monster.
I need you to tell the truth.”
She wiped her face.
“I did.”
“No.
You blamed Chloe.
Then you said you never saw her.
Then you said the sun was in your eyes.
Then you said children move suddenly.
The video shows she was kneeling there the whole time.”
“I panicked.”
“Then say that.”
“I just did.”
“Say you saw her.”
Briana stared at me.
My mother said, “Lindsay.”
I ignored her.
“Say you saw my daughter before the car moved forward.”
Briana’s breathing changed.
My father stepped toward me, but Mr.
Brennan stayed between us without making a show of it.
Finally, Briana whispered, “I saw something.”
My stomach dropped.
“What?”
“Movement.”
