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TV.”
    â€œThat’s a bass tournament, sure, but I like to eat what I catch. Trust me, this one’s better off on a plate. Didn’t you ever see The Lion King and that whole ‘circle of life’ thing?”
    Harrison shook his head and refused the pole Coach held out to him. “I can’t.”
    â€œHarrison, things die. You eat hamburgers, right?”
    He nodded.
    â€œYeah, well, someone had to kill a cow for you to eat that burger. That’s how it goes, right?”
    â€œBut this one’s hurt.”
    â€œRight, and hurt things don’t survive. That’s nature.”
    Harrison shook his head again. “When something’s hurt, you’re supposed to help it.”
    Coach looked around, but there was no one there to help him. “So we can catch healthy ones and keep them to eat? Is that okay?”
    â€œSure.”
    â€œYou got a lot going on in there, you know that?”
    Harrison shrugged.
    Coach huffed and pulled the stringer up out of the water. “You want to let this fish go?”
    â€œI don’t want you to be mad,” Harrison said.
    Coach’s face softened. “I’m not mad. I think I get it. You’re a good kid, Harrison, you know that?”
    Harrison eyed Coach with suspicion. Then his throat tightened and his eyes got moist.
    No one had ever called him that before.

Chapter Eleven
    THE INJURED FISH WAGGED its tail and disappeared with a flash among the sunbeams reaching deep into the water. Harrison felt a smile creep onto his face.
    They kept fishing. Harrison tangled the line a couple times and botched most of his casts, but Coach didn’t seem to mind. He was patient with Harrison, and after some time Harrison was able to cast pretty well. He never caught a fish, but Coach got three and laughed when Harrison nodded his approval to set them aside for dinner. None were as big as the injured one, but Coach said his wife would be happy.
    Harrison didn’t mind helping Coach clean the fish and he couldn’t explain what bothered him so much about the hurt fish, but Coach didn’t bring it up. Mrs. Kelly was happy, and she laid the long slabs Coach cut from the sides of the fish into flour before settling them into a pan that snapped with bacon grease and onions. Harrison’s mouth watered; the fish was delicious.
    After dinner, Harrison and Coach cleaned up while Mrs. Kelly sipped tea and worked on a puzzle set out in what looked like a million pieces across the dining room table in the next room. When they finished, Coach and Harrison helped with the puzzle until Mrs. Kelly yawned and looked at the clock. Darkness had enveloped the house not long after dinner, but Harrison was still surprised to see that it was already nine o’clock.
    â€œWe like to read before bed, Harrison. I know you might like to watch TV, but it’s something we try to do only a couple times a week. Coach has his Monday Night Football and I like Dancing with the Stars . Is there a show you watch?”
    Harrison shrugged. The Constables liked to watch TV, but he never got to choose the channel, and what they watched, besides football, never interested him. Lump, his older foster brother, had an old Game Boy, and Harrison used to watch him play it and was rewarded every so often when Lump let him have a turn. So, when Mrs. Kelly suggested that Harrison might like to read—as she said she and Coach would do—before bed, he figured it was worth a try.
    Coach shook his hand and Mrs. Kelly kissed the top of his head at the landing on the second floor before turning down the long hall toward their own room.
    Harrison used the bathroom—his own bathroom—that opened directly into his room. He marveled at the soap, smooth and pink and clean, nothing like the cracked and grimy cakes he was used to at the Constables’ farm. The corners of the tub were white and clean too. There was no grease or grime or old, oily body