““Morning,” she said, stifling an answering yawn herself. She hated football practice mornings. Five-thirty was just too darn early for human beings to be awake, much less bashing each other around on the football field. The sky outside her kitchen window was still black. She couldn’t even see the apple tree, which was no more than ten feet away. “Mmlng,” Steve mumbled pleasantly as he entered the kitchen, squinting against the bright overhead light. She wasn’t sure he’d had any sleep at all las...t night. She’d heard him still up at three, talking on the telephone to Michelle, his new girlfriend. He’d sounded so stupid and sweet she hadn’t had the heart to break it up. But he’d pay for it today. He wasn’t naturally an early riser. Left to his own devices, like most teenagers, he’d sleep till midafternoon. She yawned again. Once, back when they were kids, they had both loved to sleep late. But she hadn’t had that luxury in years. Not since their mother died. As Steve slouched into the kitchen, she pulled out his chair, which he promptly used to stash his heavy backpack.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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