The snow stopped by three p.m., and the sun came out and melted it away, so that by the time the game started at five-thirty, its only remnant was the soggy ground around the bleachers with the new grass growing out of the ragged brown memory of last summer’s lawn.Alan took the little ones for dinner at the diner after school, letting them order double chocolate-chip pancakes. At 13, they’d settled into a fatness that made him think of a foam-rubber toy, the rolls and dimples at their wrists and elbows and knees like the seams on a doll.“You’re starting high school next year?” Alan said, as they were pouring syrup on their second helping. He was startled by this—how had they gotten so old so quickly?“Uh-huh,” Eli said. “I guess.”“So you’re graduating from elementary school this spring?”“Yeah.” Eli grinned a chocolate smile at him. “It’s no big deal. There’s a party, though.”“Where?”“At some kid’s house.”“It’s okay,” Alan said. “We can celebrate at home. Don’t let them get to you.”“We can’t go?” Ed suddenly looked a little panicked.“You’re invited?” He blurted it out and then wished he hadn’t.“Of course we’re invited,” Fred said from inside Ed’s throat. “There’s going to be dancing.”“You can dance?” Alan asked.“We can!” Ed said.“We learned in gym,” Greg said, with the softest, proudest voice, deep within them.“Well,” Alan said. He didn’t know what to say. High school. Dancing. Invited to parties. No one had invited him to parties when he’d graduated from elementary school, and he’d been too busy with the little ones to go in any event. He felt a little jealous, but mostly proud. “Want a milkshake?” he asked, mentally totting up the cash in his pocket and thinking that he should probably send Brad to dicker with the assayer again soon.“No, thank you,” Ed said. “We’re watching our weight.”Alan laughed, then saw they weren’t joking and tried to turn it into a cough, but it was too late. Their shy, chocolate smile turned into a rubber-lipped pout.
The snow stopped by three p.m., and the sun came out and melted it away, so that by the time the game started at five-thirty, its only remnant was the soggy ground around the bleachers with the new grass growing out of the ragged brown memory of last summer’s lawn.
Alan took the little ones for dinner at the diner after school, letting them order double chocolate-chip pancakes. At 13, they’d settled into a fatness that made him think of a foam-rubber toy, the rolls and dimples at their wrists and elbows and knees like the seams on a doll.
“You’re starting high school next year?” Alan said, as they were pouring syrup on their second helping. He was startled by this—how had they gotten so old so quickly?
“Uh-huh,” Eli said. “I guess.”
“So you’re graduating from elementary school this spring?”
“Yeah.” Eli grinned a chocolate smile at him. “It’s no big deal. There’s a party, though.”
“Where?”
“At some kid’s house.”
“It’s okay,” Alan said. “We can celebrate at home. Don’t let them get to you.”
“We can’t go?” Ed suddenly looked a little panicked.
“You’re invited?” He blurted it out and then wished he hadn’t.
“Of course we’re invited,” Fred said from inside Ed’s throat. “There’s going to be dancing.”
“You can dance?” Alan asked.
“We can!” Ed said.
“We learned in gym,” Greg said, with the softest, proudest voice, deep within them.
“Well,” Alan said. He didn’t know what to say. High school. Dancing. Invited to parties. No one had invited him to parties when he’d graduated from elementary school, and he’d been too busy with the little ones to go in any event. He felt a little jealous, but mostly proud. “Want a milkshake?” he asked, mentally totting up the cash in his pocket and thinking that he should probably send Brad to dicker with the assayer again soon.
“No, thank you,” Ed said. “We’re watching our weight.”
Alan laughed, then saw they weren’t joking and tried to turn it into a cough, but it was too late. Their shy, chocolate smile turned into a rubber-lipped pout.