Jonathan is almost a full block ahead of us on his bike, and he still can’t brake without crashing into things or people. I keep going over Chris and his dad’s whispered conversation from yesterday again and again in my mind, and I have to have answers. “Gail, what do you know about Chris’s mom?” Gail looks at me. Her eyes are hard, and I think she’s going to bitch me out for asking. But she only says, “It’s not my place to talk about her,” then turns her face forward, watching the sidewalk pass under the stroller’s wheels. I look down at my fingers, picking my nails. “Chris won’t tell you about her?” I bite my thumbnail. “I haven’t asked him. I heard him say something to his dad about her and about dating you.” “Yeah.” She sighs. “Ken told me they got into it.” “What else did he say?”
