Burning Questions of Bingo Brown
“Bingo said casually at the supper table.
“Not now, Bingo,” his mom said. “Your dad’s talking. Why can’t you go to homecoming, Sam? This is terrible.”
“Mr. Richardson wants me to go to Lima, Ohio, and give a presentation.”
“Didn’t you tell him it was homecoming?”
“Yes.”
“Didn’t he care?”
“Not really.”
“Well, if you don’t go, I’m not going either.”
“Of course you’ll go. You’ve been practicing ‘Fight, Darn You, Fight’ for weeks.”
Actually she had only been practicing for two days, but it seemed like weeks.
“It wouldn’t be fun without you.”
“You have to go. You were the best trumpet player they had.”
“I’ll think about it.”
“You mean you really would go without me?”
“I didn’t say that. I said I’d think about it.”
There was a silence, and Bingo filled it with, “Oh, by the way, I may be home from school early tomorrow.”
His mom said, “What time?”
“Eight-oh-five.”
The very casual delivery of the answer had the desired effect.
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