And now his best friend had arrived dressed in bright red.
For one shameful moment, I wondered whether Theo was trying to make himself the center of attention.
I would spend a long time regretting that thought.
Because I knew Theo.
Or at least, I believed I did.
He had been part of our lives since the boys were seven years old.
His family lived four houses down from ours. Jack met him at school, and within a month, the two were inseparable. They rode their bicycles through the neighborhood, played video games until midnight, and invented elaborate excuses whenever they broke something.
When they were ten, they accidentally shattered our garage window with a hockey puck.
Daniel stood in the driveway with his arms crossed while the boys stared at the broken glass.
“Who did this?”
Neither answered.
“I’m waiting.”
Jack finally raised his hand.
“It was a bird.”
