His mother lifted a plate out of the sudsy water. ‘Would you get that, honey?’ ‘Sure.’ He balled up the dishrag. As he backed away, he shot it toward the sink. It flared out, and dropped like a sheet over the rack of dishes waiting to be dried. In two long strides, he was at the kitchen door. He picked up the wall phone. ‘Hello?’ ‘Eddie?’ asked a soft, breathy voice. He smiled. ‘Oh, hi Aleshia. How are you?’ ‘I miss you.’ ‘Me too,’ he said, and wished he’d picked up the phone in a different room. He never expected the caller would be Aleshia. She usually phoned much later, talking quietly from her dark bedroom. ‘How was football practice?’ ‘Just fine,’ he said. He remembered her waving as she ran by with the other cheerleaders, her legs quick under the pleated skirt. ‘How did your practice go?’ ‘Oh, just fine. Except for Sue. She’s such a know-it-all. I just wish she’d fall off her pedestal and break a leg. Or something higher up, if you get my meaning.’ Eddie smiled.
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