Mom says the phone is for me and leaves it on the counter. She watches me pick it up and say, “Hello.”
“Hello? Donnie?”
English accents. The twins.
“Yeah. It’s me.”
“It’s Sheila, from . . . from the bus. And Rodney . . .”
“Hi, Donnie.”
I can picture them, their heads pressed together, talking into the same phone.
“We wanted to say,” Sheila says in her quick-clip voice, “that we’re sorry about your sister. We would be . . . We would be so sad if something happened to one of us.”
I have no idea what to say to that, so I say, “Oh.”
Rodney asks, “When do you come back to school, then?”
I’m glad to know the answer to that one.
“Monday.”
“Well, we’ll see you Monday, then,” he says.
“Yes, Donnie, we’ll see you Monday.”