Matt asked. “School?” Denny looked blank. “It’s Monday. I go to school on Mondays. I’m supposed to be there by eight-fifteen.” “Not today. You won’t be going to school for a while.” “I’m almost done with kindergarten. I have to finish so I can graduate to first grade.” “You don’t have to go back. You’ve already graduated. You’ll start first grade in September.” Denny hadn’t thought that far ahead—he hadn’t thought beyond the weekend visit with Winston and Celia—but he knew he couldn’t enroll the kid in school anywhere in the Northwest. He wished he could. It would get the boy out of the apartment every day. Denny’s nerves jangled when Matt sat around with those big, sad eyes watching everything Denny did. The only thing worse was when the kid pretended to throw a baseball. He actually held an imaginary ball, then pretended to throw it as hard as he could. It was weird. “What am I going to do until September?” Matt asked. “It’s boring here.
