“Am I late?”

The voice is distant, but it booms like thunder. Tall, athletic Jason Brax rides up, bent over the handlebars of his silver racing bike.

“Sorry! I’m with my dad this week. I had to help him mop out the kitchen. We left the window open last night because we burned the chili. The smoke went out but the hurricane came in!”

Everything about Jason is larger than life: His voice; his mane of windblown brown hair. Even his shoulders are broader and more adult-size.