"What is it, Dante?" Joe asked. "What's troubling you?"
"I don't know how to tell you."
"Son," Joe said, "we're your parents, and we love you. You never have to be afraid to tell us anything,
no matter what it is."
"You know that, don't you?" Paulina put in.
"Yes," Dante said, "I know."
"I think we'll be more comfortable on the couch," Joe suggested.
They sat on the couch, Dante between his parents. Some children may have felt trapped, but Dante didn't.
A scent of garlic and paprika came from the kitchen; there was a chicken roasting in the oven. Dante usually loved
chicken, but just then he was not very hungry, In fact, he had never been less hungry in his life.
"Now," Joe said, "let's hear what's troubling you."
Dante took a deep breath. "Remember the day the Petersons' house burned down because the firefighters couldn't get there in time?"
"Yes," Joe said, "because someone turned in a false alarm. Dante, do you know who it was?"
Dante nodded. He couldn't speak.
"Whoever it is, you're not doing them a favor by protecting them," said Paulina.
"That's right," Joe said. "And I promise you, I won't arrest them, but," he added, "I will need to talk to their parents."
Dante burst out, "It was me! I'm the one who turned in the alarm!"