“Miss April, Angels live in heaven, and Mommy said Daddy is an angel, so my Daddy lives in heaven right?”

Travis was driving his white Cherokee Jeep Matchbox car up and down the sides of the timeout beanbag chair. April leaned over and brushed the four-year-old’s unruly cowlick. Ever since his father’s accident the boy had changed. At first Travis was withdrawn. The poor boy’s father was burned to ashes in an unexplainable single car accident. The thought of it made the preschool teacher shudder.

April understood. She had lost her mom when she was only seven. Looking at Travis her chest tightened with memories. Travis’ mother hadn’t been overly concerned about her son’s change. Town gossip was the woman had already moved on with a new boyfriend but April knew in a small town lies fly while the the truth walks.

"Varoom!” she said as she drove her fiery red Mustang racecar toy next to the boy’s Jeep.

They raced together. Travis laid down on the racetrack floor mat and April laid opposite. She expected Travis to be more quiet in the months after the car wreck. Even his bedwetting during nap time was expected. What she hadn’t expected was the violence. The boy went from sad to mad to furious.

He hit and punched Miss Nisha and Miss Kelly when he didn’t get his way. Soon he was throwing tantrums every day. Last week Travis bit his best friend Brooke hard enough to break the skin.

Together their cars rode the blue and red carpeted highways. They visited the zoo and the airport and sped to the farm.

“Travis it’s okay if you’re mad at your Daddy for going to Heaven. It’s okay to be mad. It means you’re missing him.”

“My Daddy is not in heaven no more. He in our house and Mommy says to call him Chuck now. He hides in Mommy’s closet when company comes. Is my Daddy still an Angel Miss April or is he a bad man?”

Miss April’s mouth curled into a surprised O. Travis raced his tiny car around the red road before smashing it into the side of the beanbag chair over and over and over.