Chapter Eleven
Happy Twenty-one
Dalton and I were on the dock taking in the June sun and drinking beer, no one saying much, pretty typical for an evening together. Then he suddenly chimed in with:
So, when were you going to tell me about your birthday?
My birthday? That surprised me.
Yeah, Rose says your twenty-first is next week. Twenty-one used to be pretty special, making you finally legal and all, and you dont say a word to me. What gives?
I dont know. I guess I was trying not to think about it.
Why not think about it?
I shrugged, being particularly tight-lipped. Fending off answers with indifferent shrugs was Daltons normal game, not mine. I hoped that hed give me as much space as I gave him.
But no. Of course not. When Dalton wanted answers he got them. He brou
