I’ll always remember Monday, August 22nd, as the worst day of my life. Whatever pain I felt after blowing the state championship game pales to what I experience this day.
I’m bracing for the lunch rush at Pavone’s when my cell rings.
“Mark, I’m coming to pick you up,” my mom says in a firm but troubled voice. “Something has happened. I’ll tell you when we get there.”
“What is it?”
“I’ll be right there.” She hangs up.
I have no clue what it could be. What could be so bad that she has to pick me up? When I tell Mr. Pavone there’s a family emergency, he takes a quick glance at the crowd of people lining up for sandwich orders and then says, “Sure, Mark. Go right now. If there’s anything I can do, let me know. Do you need a ride home?”
“No, my mom’s coming to pick me up.”
When Mom arriv
