Toby

We were all three of us sitting back on our heels now, kind of slumped, kind of sunk there, you know? Losing sight of the dream, that’s how it felt. And I was running out of jingles to try and keep my spirits up.

“‘Brylcreem, a little dab’ll do ya...’”

But then, finally, the water out there quit running—and you should have seen those two, the way they came back to life, kneeling up straight as soldiers, God’s little soldiers. I knelt up too. I even pressed my hands together like theirs.

“All right,” I whispered, “here we go, back in business—and I just want to say, you kids are doing great, both of you, I mean that. So keep it up. Keep that attitude, that—”

“Here she comes,” Lou hissed.

She was coming all right, pounding down the hallway—boom, boom, boom—not walking religious at all.

I had a bad feeling.

She didn’t even come in. She stood there in the doorway, out of breath, holding up the head in her rubber glove. It looked bald and a lot smaller. “Get this...out...of my...house.” She tossed it at me. “Get it out.”

I almost dropped it. Like I said, I don’t play sports.