You knew you were sick. The weekly hospital visits, the gloomy mood hanging over the house every time the doctors talked to your father, the way everyone tiptoed around you in conversations.

But you didn’t know why. You ate your greens. You did your homework. You hadn’t done anything wrong.

“Papa, why am I poorly?” You asked one day, causing Price to freeze.

He tried to be positive for you, but sometimes it was hard.