Free Lost in the Sun by Lisa Graff Page A

today?” I just shrugged and told him, “Neck cramp” and made my way up to the bleachers. I spent the whole period doodling Jared in a buffalo stampede in my Book of Thoughts. If Jared really had been smushed in a buffalo stampede, I thought, instead of hit with a hockey puck, probably everybody would like the kid they met today.
    One thing I knew: Mr. Gorman hadn’t called my mom to ask for any doctor’s notes. I was certain about that, because if he had, Mom would’ve shouted my head off about it. Instead, he just kept adding checks to his clipboard.
    I bet I had more “screw-up” check marks than any kid in the history of P.E.
    â€¢Â Â Â â€¢Â Â Â â€¢
    That afternoon I had lunch with Fallon, just like I had the day before, too. It wasn’t horrible. It was sunny outside, so we sat at one of the outdoortables, the ones with the built-in benches and the tops of grated metal.
    â€œI still think you should come over and watch
Field of Dreams,
” Fallon said, for about the four hundredth time. “I bet you’d really like it.”
    I didn’t know what to say to that, so I didn’t say anything. Instead, I poked a finger up through one of the holes in the metal grate of the table and bumped my tray up and down.
“Oooooh!”
I howled, like I was some kind of ghost. The Lunchtime Poltergeist or something. “The tray is
moooooving!
”
    It was stupid, but Fallon laughed.
    I had to admit, I sort of liked when Fallon laughed.
    â€œFine,” I said at last.
    â€œFine what?” Fallon asked.
    â€œI’ll watch your stupid movie.”
    Her face lit up. “Really?” she squealed. Actually squealed.
    â€œIt’s long, right?” I asked. “Like I wouldn’t get home till at least five o’clock?”
    â€œWe could watch it as soon as we got to my place,” she said. “Not even make any snacks. If you need to get home early.”
    â€œNo, that’s okay. Late is fine.”
    Fallon grinned at me. “Great,” she said.
    It was the first lunch we’d had together where she didn’t bug me to draw any pictures.
    â€¢Â Â Â â€¢Â Â Â â€¢
    I called Aaron from Fallon’s house and told him I wasn’t going to make dinner with Dad because I was working on a school project with a friend.
    â€œYou know, you’re not the only person with other stuff going on in your life, Trent,” Aaron told me in his best fatherly voice. “But sometimes you have to do the
responsible
thing and show up when you promised you would.”
    â€œI’m sorry you’re missing a date with your girlfriend or whatever,” I said, sounding a whole lot like Doug when I said it—but that’s what Aaron got for all his “responsible” talk. “If you’re so upset about having to go to dinner, you should whine to Dad, not me.”
    â€œYou are being completely immat—” Aaron began. But I hung up on him before he could finish his sentence.
    Fallon’s mom wasn’t home, only her dad. He was practically big enough for two people, though. He hardly even blinked at me when Fallon introduced me, just looked me up and down from the doorway with his arms crossed and said, “Mm-hmm.”
    Fallon rolled her eyes at that. “Dad’s a cop,” she told me, loud enough for her father to hear. “He likes to be intimidating.”
    I gulped.
    Fallon’s dad worked the night shift, so she said he didn’t start work until 11:00 p.m., and then he slept while she was at school. Which would explain why he was making eggs and coffee in the kitchen (glaring at me while he did it, I swear).
    â€œWe’re going to watch a movie in here!” Fallon called to him, tugging me away from the phone in the kitchen. “Don’t be weird, okay?” He grunted at her. Fallon started up the movie, and her dad finished cooking his eggs and