I slammed the locker shut, threw my schoolbag over my shoulder and walked away, hoping she wouldn’t follow. She yelled something after me but that’s all. I looked down at my watch. I was late for the bus. I broke into a run for the north doors, which I usually avoided because the hoods were always hanging around them. Fortunately they weren’t there, but neither was my bus. I could see the last orange bus a hundred yards away from me rounding the corner of the parking lot onto Third East. I groaned. It wasn’t like I could call anyone for a ride.

I had made the walk home before and vowed never to do it again. The school was about three and a half miles from our home and it took me almost an hour to make the journey. And that was without all the snow and ice. And I was wearing my canvas converse high tops.

“Dang it!” I shouted, which was about as harsh an expletive as I ever used, and started off for home. An hour and a half later I walked in our front door, my feet soaked and numb from the cold. My father was reading a book. He looked up at me. “You’re late.”

“I missed the bus.” I wiped my feet on the scrap of carpet my mother had put by the front door. “How are you feeling?”

“Getting better,” he said, which he always said.

My dad continued to look at me with a peculiar expression I couldn’t read. The Bible says that the guilty flee when no man pursueth, I guess that’s how I was with my secret. Had he found out about Grace? Did she leave something in the bathroom? I wondered if he was waiting for me to spill the beans, like the time Joel threw a baseball through a neighbor’s window and our dad asked us everything about our afternoon—except about the broken window—until we finally caved.

“What?” I finally said.

“Look at what I’m doing.”

I looked at him and still had no idea what he was talking about. “Yeah?”

“I’m reading a book.”

What does this have to do with Grace? I thought. “I didn’t know you couldn’t read.”

“Don’t be a smart aleck,” he said. “Of course I can read. I can turn the pages.”

“Oh. That’s great.” I hoped I sounded excited.

“Darn tootin’.” He went back to his book.

I walked out of the living room into the kitchen. Joel was at the table working on a jigsaw puzzle. He looked up at me.

“Where you been?”

“I missed the bus.”

“You walked home?”

“No. I flew.”

He went back to his puzzle. “Want to help?”

“No. I’ve got to go to work.” I lowered my voice. “Have you checked on…?”

“What?”

I tilted my head toward the back door. “You know.”

“The girl?”

“Shhh!”