“Hello?”
“Jake?”
“Yes.”
“Hi. It’s Dave Driscoll here. I’m with the Diamond Running Club.”
Jake had heard of them. What did Dave Driscoll want to talk to him about? “Okay.”
“We’ve been invited to an event in Deep Rapids next Saturday, and we can take a team of five runners. I’ve got four. Heard you were the top-place runner in your division in the city league. We’re wondering if you’d like to join us.”
“Are you sure you’re not looking for Spencer Solomon?”
“Who?”
“The top-place runner.”
“Is this Jake Jarvis?”
“Yes.”
“I’ve got a list here with your name on top. Look, son, if you’re not interested I can call the next guy.”
“No, hang on. I’m interested.”
“Okay. Let me give you some details. We have a practice tomorrow afternoon. Can you make it?”
“Sure.”
Cedar Grove Conservation Area, 4:30.
As Jake was writing the time down on a piece of paper, his dad and Luke came in. Luke danced around the kitchen, playing the counter, the table, the Tupperware and finally the pickle jar inside the fridge like a set of drums. He took out a can of pop, shut the fridge door with his elbow and whirled around, grinning. Jake’s dad was leaning against the doorframe, laughing.
“Where did you guys go?” asked Jake.
“A concert. The Cave Dwellers. It was awesome.”
“Oh.”