The Monday after tickets go on sale, I pull to a stop in front of Ross’s house only to find the yard strangely empty. He isn’t waiting for me like he usually is. I put the car into park and hit the horn.
Nothing.
I hit the horn a second time, really lay on it, and am about to call his cell when I see the front door open. His mother steps onto the porch and waves at me. Great. I cut off the engine and lean across the front seat to holler out the passenger side window, which is halfway down. “Ross coming?”
“Come on in a minute,” she says.
Now we’re going to be late.
Pocketing my cell phone, I climb out of the car and hurry across the wide, grassy expanse of their yard to the porch. Mrs. Carraway gives me a forced smile as she waits for me to come closer. Only when I’m a few steps away d
