That is, as normal as you could call it when you felt ten times happier than usual, and ten times luckier, and maybe fourteen times more pleased with yourself than you ever had before. It was normal in that Eric was sitting in Jimmy’s living room instead of sprinting full-tilt here and there or planning to sprint here and there, or only half-listening to Jimmy’s excited chatter because of solving multiple jigsaw swapping puzzles in his head. Today the chatter was twice as excited as usual, and Eric was listening wholly and with contentment. There was only one subject under discussion—the red-and-black one hundred percent vinyl cowboy boots, which were on Jimmy’s feet and fit perfectly, and were everything either of them had hoped for. Fifteen swaps, it had taken—no, sixteen, counting that curtain-ring—but the end was worth it. The surprise, too, had been exactly as Eric had visualized it—with only one disconcerting note: the reaction of Jimmy’s mother when the box was opened.
