“You forgot your own phone number?”

She nodded, a quick jerk of her head.

“You look like a pretty smart kid to me.”

“I am…but…” She gulped. “I know a lot about football. Last year, you completed three hundred forty-six passes, and you only got sacked twelve times, and you threw seventeen interceptions.”

Dean usually requested that people not use the i-word around him, but he didn’t want to agitate her more than necessary. “I’m impressed. It’s interesting you can remember all that and not remember your phone number.”

She pulled her backpack into her lap. “I’ve got something for you. I made it.” She opened the zipper and removed a blue scrapbook. The pit of his stomach contracted as he gazed down at the cover, which had been painstakingly hand decorated. Using puffy paint and marking pens, she’d drawn the Stars’ aqua and gold logo and an elaborate 10, his jersey number. Hearts with wings and banners that said “The Boo” decorated the border. He was glad Blue spoke because he couldn’t think of a damn thing to say.

“That’s some pretty good artwork.”

“Trinity’s better,” Riley replied. “She’s neat.”

“Neatness doesn’t always count so much in art,” Blue said.

“My mom says neatness is important. Or…she used to say that.”

“I’m so sorry about your mom,” Blue said quietly. “This is a really hard time for you, isn’t it?”

Riley rubbed one of the puffy hearts on the scrapbook cover. “Trinity’s my cousin. She’s eleven, too, and she’s very beautiful. Aunt Gayle is her mom.”

“I’ll bet Trinity’s going to be worried when she finds out you’re missing,” he said.

“Oh, no,” she replied. “Trinity’ll be glad. She hates me. She thinks I’m a weirdo.”

“Are you?” Blue asked.

He didn’t see the point of rubbing it in, but Blue ignored his dirty look.

“I guess,” Riley said.

Blue beamed. “Me, too. Isn’t that wild? Weirdos are the only truly interesting people, don’t you think? Everybody else is so boring. Trinity, for example. She might be beautiful, but she’s boring, right?”

Riley blinked. “She is. All she wants to talk about is boys.”

“Yuck.” Blue screwed up her face way more than she needed to.

“Or clothes.”

“Double yuck.”

“Look who’s talking,” he muttered.

But Riley was totally tuned in to Blue. “Or puking so you don’t get fat.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Blue wrinkled her small, sharp nose. “How does she know about that?”

“Puking’s real important to Aunt Gayle.”

“Gotcha.” Blue shot Dean a quick look. “So I’m guessing Aunt Gayle is pretty boring, too.”