“I get to stay here this summer,” Angel said, nearly jumping for joy, “because of Little League and to march in the parades.”
“Cool.” Without parental permission, I’d ridden on Angel’s bus and had gotten off on his street one day in late spring. My mom would hardly even notice, I figured. We walked quite slowly. Angel’s house wasn’t far from the end of the road, and we wanted to take our time. It was unspoken, the desire to spend as much time together as possible and the understanding I wouldn’t be going inside.
“Now we’ll really see the same stars.” I smiled.
“You remember me saying that?” Angel asked.
“Yeah. I do. Play me the song.”
“I’m not very good.”
“Play it anyway.”
“It’s a baby song.” Angel scuffed his shoe in the sand at the side of the pavement. “They should teach us somet
