Cypress Grove
““And he believed you.”
“Probably not. He did ask when I’d started playing softball. He . . . Well, you’ve gotten to know my father, you know it would take a lot for him to—what’s the word I’m looking for?”
“Trespass?”
“I guess.” For the first time, her face met mine straight on. “How bad does it look?”
“Purple’s on your color chart, right?”
“I feel so . . .”
“Ashamed?”
“Stupid.”
“You know you shouldn’t.”
“Of course I do.”
A kid’s face appeared in the wind...ow. Pushing against the glass, the boy pugged his nose, stuck out his tongue so that it too flattened, and crossed his eyes. Without benefit of the window, June returned a remarkable likeness of his caricature. He grinned and, mounting his skateboard like the Silver Surfer, sped away.MoreLess
“Probably not. He did ask when I’d started playing softball. He . . . Well, you’ve gotten to know my father, you know it would take a lot for him to—what’s the word I’m looking for?”
“Trespass?”
“I guess.” For the first time, her face met mine straight on. “How bad does it look?”
“Purple’s on your color chart, right?”
“I feel so . . .”
“Ashamed?”
“Stupid.”
“You know you shouldn’t.”
“Of course I do.”
A kid’s face appeared in the wind...ow. Pushing against the glass, the boy pugged his nose, stuck out his tongue so that it too flattened, and crossed his eyes. Without benefit of the window, June returned a remarkable likeness of his caricature. He grinned and, mounting his skateboard like the Silver Surfer, sped away.MoreLess
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