"You have two choices," Mom said, pocketing the phone. "You leave Elias alone from now on, and we never speak of this again. Or..." She leaned in, lowering her voice. "I sign you up for my Saturday morning junior leadership workshop. It’s six hours of conflict resolution, group trust falls, and writing apology essays. I teach it."
"Elias," she said quietly, setting down her fork. "You’ve got that look. The one you had when you were seven and afraid of the basement."
"With bells on."
For the first time, I saw Derek Thompson look genuinely terrified.
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