The curtain in Bryce’s room moved quickly back into place, and I couldn’t help asking, “Bryce?”
“That’s the third time I’ve seen him watching.” “Really?”
My heart was fluttering about like a baby bird trying to fly.
He frowned and said, “Let’s finish up and get that seed sown, shall we? You’ll want the warmth of the day to help with the germination.”
I was happy to finally be planting the yard, but I couldn’t help being distracted by Bryce’s window. Was he watching?
During the rest of the afternoon, I checked more often than I’d like to admit.
And I’m afraid Chet noticed, too, because when we were all done and we’d congratulated each other on what was sure to be a fine-looking yard,
he said, “He may be acting like a coward now, but I do hold out hope for the boy.”
A coward? What on earth could I say to that? I just stood there with the hose in one hand and the spigot valve beneath the other.
And with that, Chet waved so long and walked across the street.
A few minutes later I saw Bryce coming down the sidewalk toward his house. I did a double take.
All this time I’d thought he was inside the house watching, and he was really outside walking around?
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