She immediately shrugged.
“Just wondering.”
I didn’t push.
Raising Sophie alone had taught me something important.
Sometimes children need questions.
Sometimes they need space.
So that morning, while I poured cereal into the bowl she had used since childhood, I asked only:
“You sure everything’s okay?”
“Dad, I’m fine.”
“You’re nervous?”
“A little.”
I laughed.
“You gave a speech in front of three hundred people when you were thirteen.”
“This is different.”
I didn’t know how different.
WESTBRIDGE HIGH SCHOOL
We drove across Bellmere toward Westbridge High School.
It was the same school I had attended years earlier.
As we passed the entrance, I remembered one particular man.
The janitor.
Quiet.
