“No, idiot.”
“Sorry. When?”
“It was this one morning when we were kids. A school morning. I’d gotten up late and just got out of the shower. My hair was a mess, and I stood on my porch trying to fix it while the bus waited. You were standing out by the bus, and I kept waiting for you to yell at me, ‘Get going, Darlene,’ like you usually did. But you didn’t.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“You remember?”
“I do.”
“Come on.”
“You were wearing that white parka with the fake fur on the hood. Fats and Blinky were barking their asses off.”
“That could have been any day.”
“But it wasn’t.” I set a hand on her thigh and squeezed. “So, you keep secrets too, huh?”
“I just told you, so it’s not a secret anymore.”
“Uh-huh. Apparently, I’m attracted to people like you.”
She pressed a toe to the ground and pushed so that the swing began to rock.
“Lucky me,” she said.
