CHAPTER FIVE
That evening, the front door burst open with the force of a tornado touching down in Wicksburg. Lucy stood her ground in the living room, knowing this surge of energy wasn’t because of Mother Nature—the warning siren hadn’t gone off—but was man, er, boy-made.
Manny usually couldn’t wait to make another escape attempt, but the cat hightailed it into the kitchen. The ball of dark fur slid across the linoleum before disappearing from sight.
Connor flew into the house, strands of his strawberry-blond hair going every which way. He was lanky, as his dad had been at that age, all limbs with not an ounce of fat on him. The set of his jaw and the steely determination in his eyes made him seem more superhero than a four-and-a-half-foot tall third-grader. The only thing missing—a cap
