Chapter 20: Ten Past Eight

Dane's POV

I woke at five on Saturday, and Barron was already awake, lying on her side with her hand on my chest.

She had not gone back to her room since Tuesday, and no one in the house had said a word about it.

I got up before she could speak and wrote three sentences on the corner of a crossword page.

I read them over, tore them off, and folded them into my jersey pocket.

"What's that?" she said.

"Nothing."

"It's pen."

"I do everything in pen."

She sat up with the sheet around her.

"I'm coming to the stadium," she said. "I'll sit with Rory."

"Lacey will have the whole place watching you."

"She had it watching me before."

I did not argue, because I had learned that it never worked.

In the kitchen I stood at the stove and made her eggs.

She took the stool by the window and watched me crack them.

My father was still asleep upstairs.

The house was quiet, and the light was gray.

If I did not say it now, I would say it in front of forty thousand people instead.

"Barron," I said.

"Yes?"

"I need to tell you what I haven't."

She waited.

I looked at the pan.

"I stood behind you in the bakery line every Tuesday for two years," I said. "Same time. Ten past eight."

She did not move.

"You knew the name of the person ahead of you," I said. "You asked about her mother's knee."

"You counted your change out loud."

My voice was flat, because it was the only way to keep it level.

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