“Did you have a good night, dear?” Mrs. Boudine asked Ernie as he came into the kitchen. “I was surprised when you were home so early. I half expected you to be out again with your new friend. How is he by the way? What would you like for breakfast? Will you be seeing him again tonight?”
Well, some things hadn’t changed, Ernie thought. Despite his new-found openness with his mother, her manner of rapid-fire comments and questioning without giving him time to respond was still intact.
“I’ll just have a cup of coffee, thanks,” he said, crossing to the counter and taking a cup from the overhead cupboard.
“Now, Ernest,” his mother said, turning from the stove and looking at him with a mock stern expression. She shook a spatula in his direction. “You know you need a better breakfast than tha
