Shawn barely looked up from his Hot Wheels. “It’s real, Dad,” he said. “I got an A.”

“Someone got an A,” Henry said. He turned his fiercest gaze on Gus, who had picked up a toy car and was studying it so intently he might have been working up a repair estimate for an insurance company. “The question is who?”

“It was Shawn,” Gus said, never looking up from the car’s undercarriage.

“All on his own?” Henry said, staring down at Gus.

“Don’t you have any faith in me, Dad?” Shawn said.

“Way too much to fall for this,” Henry said, still not taking his eyes off Gus. That kid would crack soon; Henry could tell by the nervous way he was spinning the car’s wheels. “So what did Shawn do, son? Did he copy off your paper?”

“Dad!”

Henry ignored him. “You can tell me, Gus,” he said in his most fatherly voice, the one he reserved for children who were not actually related to him. “Did Shawn copy your paper?”

“No, sir,” Gus said.

“Then I don’t suppose you’d mind letting me look at your book report,” Henry said. Before either of the boys could move, he snatched Gus’ backpack off the chair where it was hanging and pulled out a three-ring binder neatly arranged by subject and date. He flipped to the section marked “English” and then to this week’s assignment.

“Dad, that’s none of your business,” Shawn said.

“It is if his report is identical to yours,” Henry said. He turned a page and saw a book report with the same date as Shawn’s.

“See, Mr. Spencer?” Gus said. “They’re not identical.”

They weren’t. Not in any aspect. The subjects were different. The sentences were different. And most of all, the grades were different.

“You got a C minus?” Henry said, amazed. “You’ve never done worse than a B plus in your life.”