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“Are you glad you came over today?” I ask softly. The waves crash.
“More than glad,” Sean says from behind the camera. “Thankful.” Click.
“Truly?” I ask. “Because you did hide for two hours.”
“I just needed to think about everything,” he says. “To let it sink in.”
“Yeah,” I say. “I’ll probably do that when I try to go to sleep tonight. It was a pretty big deal for me.”
“I know it was,” he says. “Are you glad you did it?”
“Yes,” I say without hesitation.
“Good,” he says, putting the camera back up to his face. “I do have one question, though.”
My heart skips; it’s the tone of his voice.
Click.
“You said Betsey does evening stuff,” he says.
“Yes,” I answer, half smiling.
Click.
“Football games are in the evening.”
“Oh, really?” I feign surprise.
Click.
“There’s one game in particular I’m curious about,” Sean says, still from behind the camera.
“It was me,” I whisper just before the waves crash.
Sean lowers the camera and pulls the lens cap out of his pocket. He snaps it on and sets the camera aside. Then he scoots over to me. With his face two inches from mine, he whispers:
“Prove it.”
And I do.
fourteen
The next day after school, I’m driving down the road when Mom’s driving up. When we pass each other, I see that she’s wearing her scrubs, so she must be going to work. I get a flash of nervous excitement, wondering if I should take the opportunity to check out her secret office during the day. I make a split decision to do it; I pull over and turn around.
Mom’s so far ahead of me I can’t see her, but then halfway down the hill, I notice her turning in the opposite direction of work.
“Here we go again,” I mutter to myself. “Where are you going this time?”
I follow, realizing after a few minutes that we’re tracing the path back to the office.
“You’re going to be late for work!” I say aloud, annoyed at her. The cell rings; it’s Home.
“You’re late,” Betsey says.
“I know, sorry,” I say. “I’m following Mom.”
“Really?” Bet asks, her voice going up a little. “To the hospital?”
