“Dad, I’m thirsty,” he called, his voice barely audible over the humming of the idling air conditioner, which had long since failed under the sun’s merciless glare.
But Tyler’s parents weren’t listening. Inside the supermarket, Karen and Jason Miller were embroiled in a shouting match in aisle seven. Cereal boxes toppled as Karen shoved Jason, tears streaking her face.
“You never listen! You never help!” she screamed.
“Me? Me?” Jason’s voice cracked with anger. “You think this is all my fault? Look at yourself!”
Meanwhile, Tyler pressed his forehead against the hot glass. The temperature in the van had already begun to climb past 100 degrees Fahrenheit. He fanned himself with his hands, heart racing. He tried the door handle—it was locked. The windows didn’t budge. He banged gently on the glass.
“Mom! Dad! I’m in here!”
No response.
