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Scrabble with him.” I didn’t address how I felt about the rest of my family, particularly my mother.
    Rob chuckle d. I guess he realized how awkward I felt from my lack of eye contact. Thankfully, he changed the subject. “Do you like to play Scrabble?” He looked at me.
    I didn’t look back. Instead, I smiled. “Yes, I do.”
    “We’ll have to play.” I tilted my head in his direction. His dark lashes shaded his eyes, making him look mischievous.
    Dillon ran behind me. He yelled, “It.”
    Eric sprinted and stopped in front of us. “You mean base.” He lowered his head and placed his hands on his bent knees. Between huffs of breath he said, “Man… this boy… can… run.”
    “Well, you just fueled him with that hot dog,” I said.
    “Manny, home,” Dillon said. He wiggled his legs back and forth. He needed to use the bathroom.
    Rob stood. A tingle ran through my body as I took his outstretched hand so he could help me to my feet.
    “Will you come to the park tomorrow?” Rob asked.
    “Sure,” I said. That didn’t sound too desperate, did it?
    “Good. See you tomorrow.” He was a little taller than me, but just enough where I’d only need to be on my tiptoes to reach his pillowy lips.
    Dillon grabbed my hand and I knew he was ready to leave, although I wasn’t. I could have stayed there all day as long as Rob was there. After we left, I wanted to turn and look at him again, just to last me the night, but I didn’t want him to know how pathetic I was.
     

 
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    Chapter Seven
     
     
    The next day, I forced Dillon to go to the park. He wanted to stay home and leaf through his airplane books, but I promised to take him to the hobby shop if he went.
    “You can buy a model plane on the way home,” I said. The bribe worked; he agreed to go.
    Dillon ran through his park routine four times in two hours and I didn’t see either Rob or Eric. Finally, Dillon reminded me about my promise. Realizing how stupid I was for believing that Rob would want to meet me, we walked toward the park exit.
    On the way out of the park, three fire trucks zoomed past us. Dillon shoved his fingers in his ears to block the screech of the sirens. It took a few minutes to stop him from jumping up and down in place after the trucks had passed. I wondered if it sounded that loud the night Rob’s house was on fire.
    “Let’s go to the hobby shop,” I said.
    Dillon’s smile was wide when I gave him the money to pay for his own purchase. “You carry it home. It’s yours,” I said. Although he’s ten and is challenged in some areas, my parents treat him as if he can’t do anything. That might be one of the reasons Dillon likes to do things with me; I always let him try. He has to learn, eventually.
    Once back home, I set aside the things for dinner on the counter. I opened the box with the model. Dillon sat in the chair next to me, watching every movement.
    “First, you have to read the instructions,” I told him. “They tell you the order you have to put it together.” I pointed to the directions. Dillon stared at the paper. “Step one: inventory all of the pieces to make sure none are missing.” When all of the parts were accounted for, I proceeded with step two.
    An hour later, the model was complete. Dillon reache d to take the plane. “No, Dill. Wait until the glue dries. Then you can paint it. Okay?”
    With deliberate movements, I moved the plane to the kitchen counter so the glue could dry. “ Wanna set the table?”
    The only sound was the scrape of his chair moving backward as he stood up. I handed him the plates, napkins, silverware, and cups. “Great job. Now, watch cartoons until I call you for dinner, okay?”
    He marched into the living room and sat in his favorite spot on the couch. In a second, the television had Sponge Bob and Patrick Star off on one of their bizarre? adventures.
    I lunged for the phone when it rang. “Hello?”
    “Hey, Sweetie.”
    “Hi,