Jason’s father was a horrible man, and Jason’s look of longing as he talked about him broke my heart. But I was determined not to let it show. He had enough of me feeling sorry for him. What he needed tonight was fun. “Come on,” I said, grabbing his hand and pulling him out of the dark park, toward downtown where we’d find a bowling alley. About halfway back out of the park, Jason tensed and dropped down to one knee, his hand reaching for the dirt in the crack of the cement. His eyes were wide, and his breathing was fast at the hint of something that could be a threat. “What is it?” I asked after a moment, looking around the dark, straining to see a danger that may or may not even exist. He shook his head as he stood, “I don’t know. I thought I felt something, but it’s gone now. Could have been a stray dog or something, but it didn’t feel that way.” “It wasn’t…” Jason shook his head again, more emphatically.
