I look over at Dylan and see that his eyes are as big as saucers. “More surprises?” He looks at me and then at Justin. “What is it?”

“I can’t tell you that.” Justin smiles at him and takes the last drink of his juice and then looks at me. “Did you eat enough?”

“Yeah,” I say, looking down at my empty plate. I don’t grab the last piece of toast, and it’s a good thing because Dylan snatches it up and then turns to me.

“Can you put peanut butter on this?” he asks, and I lean over to grab a small square plastic container, then peel the top off and spread it on the toast. “Thanks, Mom,” he says as he bites into it.

The waitress comes over. “Well, I take it the food was good?” She stacks the empty plates to clear the table, and I smile at her. When she walks away, Justin gets up and follows her, and I know he’s going to pay the bill. I’m trying not to think about how much it is, but I can’t help it. When I pulled out the menu, my heart sank at the prices. The lowest was six dollars for the two eggs plate. I grab the menu now and try to do a quick calculation in my head, but my mind starts to spin when I get past the fifty-dollar mark.

“Did you eat good?” I ask Dylan, grabbing my own orange juice and drinking it while he nods and finishes his toast. Justin comes back over and sits down in front of us.

“You are going to be a bullet on the ice today,” Justin tells Dylan. “My father used to make me eat the biggest breakfast in the morning,” he says. “I used to hate it.” He shakes his head. “All I wanted was to get on the ice.”

“I like the ice the best,” Dylan says.

“One day, I didn’t eat breakfast, and I went on the ice. I couldn’t even skate,” Justin says, and Dylan just listens to his story.

“What happened?” Dylan asks, all worried.

“Well, I went to skate, and then I was going on a breakaway, but I just didn’t have the energy to skate it all the way to the goal line, and they stole the puck from me.”

“Was your dad mad?” he asks, worried for him. “Did he yell at you?”

“Nah, my dad never yells at me. My mom sometimes.” He smiles and looks at me. “Most times. Are you guys almost ready?” he asks, and Dylan nods.