Chapter 6: Four Dollars of Coke

Milo was waiting on the bench outside the principal's office with his backpack on his lap.

He wore a Twins cap that was too big and held a card.

I sat down next to him. The card said, in careful marker letters: MOM FORGOT ME.

"I didn't forget you," I said. "I never met you."

He looked at me.

That did not come out the way I meant.

"Let's get out of here," I said. "Diner. My treat."

His eyes narrowed.

"That's a loan," he said, and followed me out the door.

It was his first word to a grown-up all day, and it was about my own rule.

The diner on Main had a counter with red stools and a pie case that hummed.

Milo climbed onto a stool and put his card face down.

"Two grilled cheeses," I told the waitress. "And a Coke for him."

"He gets one Coke," the waitress said. "After a lie."

I turned to Milo.

"What does that mean?"

He pulled a small yellow notepad out of his backpack and flipped it open.

It was a tally. Down the page were rows of tick marks and, next to each one, a short note in a six-year-old's block print.

"Mom's rule thirteen," he said. "If you lie, you owe somebody a Coke."

"That's not on the card."

"It's a new rule. I made it up when you got mad about the hamster."

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