Ryan—grimly—complimented me, resting back in his cafeteria chair while he read the Gazette. Everybody was reading the paper for a change. The caf was practically wallpapered with the second special edition of the year. “And a nice tribute to him, too,” Ry added. “I didn’t think you liked him that much.” I picked glumly at my grilled cheese. “I didn’t. But everybody deserves a decent memorial.” I thought about Coach Killdare, and how I was learning positive things about him now that he was gone. “Who knows? Maybe I misjudged Mike in life.” “I don’t think so,” Laura disagreed. “But you’re right about the decent memorial thing.” She accepted the newspaper from Ryan and skimmed my work, noting, “These are good stories, Millie.” Then she frowned. “Wow . . . You actually put in here about your dad getting questioned again, and him fighting with Mike.” “I had no choice.” I looked across the cafeteria to the table where Chase usually sat alone, nose in a textbook.
