“I was thirteen,” I said again, although of course I was only thinking crush crush crush crush crush.
I was flattered but changed the subject immediately. “Shouldn’t you be in school or something?”
I’m playing hooky to hang out with Isaac, but he’s sleeping, so I’m in the atrium doing geometry.”
“How’s he doing?” I asked. “I can’t tell if he’s just not ready to confront the seriousness of his disability
or if he really does care more about getting dumped by Monica, but he won’t talk about anything else.”
“Yeah,” I said. “How long’s he gonna be in the hospital?” “Few days.
Then he goes to this rehab or something for a while, but he gets to sleep at home, I think.”
“Sucks,” I said. “I see his mom. I gotta go.” “Okay,” I said. “Okay,” he answered. I could hear his crooked smile.
On Saturday, my parents and I went down to the farmers’ market in Broad Ripple.
It was sunny, a rarity for Indiana in April, and everyone at the farmers’ market was wearing short sleeves
even though the temperature didn’t quite justify it. We Hoosiers are excessively optimistic about summer.
Mom and I sat next to each other on a bench across from a goat-soap maker,
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