Kel Cohen

Quick Facts

• Role: Nine-year-old brother of Layken Cohen; comic relief, emotional compass, and unexpected truth-teller
• First appearance: Arrival in Michigan, where he immediately befriends Caulder Cooper and inadvertently introduces Layken to Will Cooper
• Family: Son of Julia Cohen; recently bereaved after his father’s death
• Distinctive traits: “Backwards day,” malapropisms (“anabited”), obsession with imaginative play; takes up hockey in Michigan
• Physical note: Small for his age, dirty-blond hair, soft features—he “takes after” his dad
• Function in themes: His innocence refracts the novel’s Grief, Loss, and Acceptance and anchors its exploration of Family and Found Family amid Forbidden Love and Obstacles

Who They Are

In a world suddenly ruled by adult problems, Kel Cohen keeps the story human, funny, and honest. He’s the first to make a friend, the first to name a pattern (even when it hurts), and the one who turns terror into play so the family can look at it without breaking. Kel’s energy knits households together: his friendship with Caulder pulls Layken toward Will, and his curious, unfiltered questions force the adults to say the quiet parts out loud. Through Kel, the novel shows how a child’s perspective doesn’t trivialize grief—it disarms it, making space for connection and acceptance.

Personality & Traits

Kel’s humor and imagination aren’t distractions; they’re how he metabolizes loss. He treats change as a game he can master—walking backward, inventing words, staging snowman “crime scenes”—and that play becomes emotional scaffolding for everyone around him. His bluntness slices through adult secrecy, often accelerating confrontations others are avoiding.

• Imaginative coping: “Backwards day,” imaginary sword fights, and elaborate pranks (the “dead snowman”) transform fear into manageable play, letting Layken and Will share brief relief during tense periods.
• Resilient adapter: Upset about leaving Texas baseball, he pivots to Michigan hockey, befriends Caulder within minutes, and integrates into a new life faster than the adults.
• Observant and blunt: He identifies the family’s “basagna” pattern as code for bad news and casually reveals he witnessed Layken and Will kissing—his candor pushes hidden truths into the open.
• Lovable malapropist: Questions like “What’s anabited?” expose the limits of his vocabulary and the depth of his curiosity, keeping the tone tender even when the subject is mortality.
• Small but vivid: Though physically slight, his presence is large—his “dirty blond hair and soft features” echo his father, linking him visually to what the family has lost.

Character Journey

Kel begins as a nine-year-old who wants his baseball season back and ends as a child who can say “My mom’s dying” without flinching from love or reality. The move to Michigan sparks his first act of agency—befriending Caulder—which catalyzes the novel’s core relationships. As Julia’s illness unfolds, Kel keeps reworking fear into stories he can hold: he names the basagna pattern, dresses as “lung cancer” for Halloween, and choreographs play that lets his sister breathe. Each step forward is both childlike and wise; by the end, his acceptance steadies Layken, and he becomes an emotional anchor who proves that maturity isn’t the loss of innocence but its reorientation toward truth.

Key Relationships

• Layken Cohen: Kel and Layken begin with a familiar sibling rhythm—teasing, protecting, eye-rolling—but grief sharpens their dependency. He tethers her to the present with jokes and plainspoken observations, while she learns to translate adult burdens into language he can carry without collapsing.
• Julia Cohen: Kel’s bond with his mother is tender and unsentimental. He senses patterns (basagna as omen) and chooses to confront rather than avoid; his Halloween “lung cancer” idea is a child’s ritual of control, turning dread into something he and Julia can face together.
• Caulder Cooper: Their immediate friendship mirrors and enables the connection between their older siblings. Together they build a bubble of normal kid life—hockey, costumes, pranks—that offsets the heaviness at home and embodies the novel’s belief in chosen family.

Defining Moments

Kel’s most memorable scenes show him translating catastrophe into clarity or play—both forms of courage for a child.

• Moving Day friendship: He races into Caulder’s yard and sparks the first Cohen–Cooper interaction. Why it matters: His spontaneity collapses the distance between families and launches Layken’s relationship with Will.
• The “basagna” observation: He announces that lasagna appears whenever bad news is coming. Why it matters: He names the family’s grief ritual, forcing adults to acknowledge what they’re trying to soften.
• Halloween as “lung cancer”: He and Caulder dress as Julia’s illness. Why it matters: It’s morbid, yes—and profoundly adaptive, showing his attempt to control narrative and fear through costume and humor.
• The dead snowman prank: A mock crime scene with red Kool-Aid draws Layken and Will into a playful moment amid estrangement. Why it matters: Kel engineers a pressure release valve, demonstrating how joy can coexist with grief.
• Blurts about the kiss: He reveals he saw Layken and Will kissing. Why it matters: Kel’s honesty accelerates conflicts others are postponing, aligning the plot with the truth he refuses to ignore.

Essential Quotes

“Hurry to says Mom Layken!”

Kel’s “backwards day” syntax captures his imaginative world and control-through-play. By bending language, he turns a disordered life into a rule-governed game, teaching the family how to keep moving—if you can’t go forward, walk backward together.

“You mean you’re going to inhabit your bedroom?”

This innocent mispronunciation (“anabited”) is classic Kel: curiosity wrapped in comedy. The joke softens a tense household scene, while the word itself underscores how he grapples with abstract ideas by trying them on his tongue.

“Every time we have basagna it's bad news. Y'all cooked basagna when grandpa died. Y'all cooked basagna when y'all told me dad was dead. Y'all cooked basagna when y'all told me we were moving to Michigan. Y'all are cooking basagna right now. Someone's either dying or we're moving back to Texas.”

Kel doesn’t intuit vibes; he cites evidence. His inventory of lasagna nights reveals a child building a data set to make sense of chaos. It’s funny, devastating, and clarifying—an indictment of euphemism and a demand for truth.

“Don't ever make basagna again.”

The punch line lands as a plea for agency. Kel can’t stop death or moving, but he can ban the ritual that foreshadows them; refusing lasagna is his way of refusing helplessness.

“My mom's dying, Caulder.”

Stripped of jokes and mispronunciations, this line shows Kel’s final movement toward acceptance. He names the reality without self-pity, modeling how love and honesty—not denial—prepare him and his friend for what comes next.