were just sitting down to Sunday dinner of baked ham, roast potatoes and corn on the cob when the phone rang. âLet the machine get it,â Mom said. Too late, Matt had already picked up.
âMattster.â The bubbly voice was unmistakably Jake. âWhatâs up?â
Matt explained that he was just about to eat dinner. âIâll call you back, okay?â he said. He returned to the table a little happier than when he had picked up the phone. Since that weird night at Long Lake, he hadnât felt quite as close to Jake. It was good to hear from him, whatever he wanted to talk about.
âIt was just Jake,â Matt said. âIâll call him back.â
It was just the two of them for dinner tonight. Mark had visited the previous weekend and he was coming home only once a month or so now. But that was all right with Matt. He enjoyed the occasional quiet dinner with his mom. The weeks were so hectic with school, sports and Momâs job as a real estate agent that it was nice to be able to catch up.
Unlike some kids, Matt kind of enjoyed spending time with his mother. Sure, she could be pretty hokey at times, but they had plenty of laughs together and he always knew she wanted what was best for him. That never failed to come across, no matter how mad she got at him for not cleaning up his room, doing the dishes or for stalling on his homework.
âI see from your school newsletter that you have a dance coming up,â she said. âAre you planning to go?â
âI donât know. I guess. But I canât figure out if weâre supposed to take someone. You know, like a date?â Just the word âdateâ seemed forced and a bit silly to Matt.
âI donât think you have to, Matt,â Mom said, her lips slipping into a half grin. âIs there somebody you were thinking of taking?â
âNaw, not really,â Matt said before quickly changing the subject. âWeâve got a game tomorrow. Are you coming?â
âIâll try to make it but Iâve got a house to show in the afternoon. What time does it start?â
âRight at 4:30,â he said. âWeâre playing Manning. I donât think theyâre very good.â
Matt went on to offer his analysis of the entire South Side baseball team to his mother, player by player. She listened intently. Matt knew it wasnât because she was a huge baseball fanâin fact, she barely knew the rulesâ but she was interested in whatever he was doing.
They were just finishing dessert, an apple pie that Mom had baked the previous fall and frozen, when the phone rang again. Matt jumped up to grab it. It was practically a reflex action.
âSorry, man.â It was Jake again. âCan you talk?â
Matt took the portable phone upstairs to his room. He closed his door, stretched out on his bed and looked out the window as dusk was settling in on Anderson Crescent. âWhatâs up, Jake?â
âIâve got an idea,â Jake said hesitantly. âItâs about the dance.â
Matt waited for Jake to continue.
âI kind of want to ask Marcia,â he said.
âYou mean Marcia Evans? You want to take her to the dance?â
âI donât know about taking her,â Jake said. âMaybe just meeting her there and hanging out. You know, more casual. Not like itâs an official date or anything.â
Matt chuckled to himself. Not like a date? This was exactly like a date. Jake just didnât want to use the word. But Matt couldnât really blame him. This was brand-new territory for both of them.
âSo, I was wondering,â Jake continued. âMarcia is like best friends with Andrea, you know. And you and Andrea get along pretty goodâ¦â
Matt could tell where Jake was going with this one. âWhy do you say that?â he asked defensively.
âItâs pretty obvious, dude. I mean, I heard she asked you to watch
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