Rachel walked outside in her designer romper, like she was on some reality TV show. She scanned Haley up and down as if she were a defective clearance item.

“Wow,” Rachel smirked. “Still doesn’t dress her like a girl that matters.”

Haley lowered her head. My jaw clenched. “Not today,” I told myself. “No fights, no explosions, no traps.”

Rachel stepped closer, her voice a venomous whisper. “You seriously think that kid is going to become anything special? You’re just raising a downgrade of yourself.”

I didn’t respond. My mother laughed beside her, like that was the funniest observation ever given.

“That’s what happens when you don’t pick the right men, Danny,” my mom said, loud enough for others to hear. “Trash breeds trash.”

Haley reached for my hand. I squeezed back.