We waved to my youngest son and he came running over to the car. As he got closer, I noticed a troubled look on his face. He’s usually all smiles. On this day, there was something else. He had a look of fear, like he was worried, but didn’t want us to know.
He opened the car door and instead of getting in he started rifling through his backpack to find his phone. When he couldn’t find it, he told us he was running back to the parking lot where he had been practicing with other members of his school’s marching band. The look on his face though gave me little assurance that he was going to be successful. He had that pained look of agony and anger that you get when you’ve lost something and have no idea where it might be. I felt trouble brewing and immediately asked my daughter to go help him.