SLEEPOVER

Once I was inside the Gallettas’ house, they made me call Mom and let her know I was okay. She was pretty upset, but she didn’t yell at me—not then, anyway.

Then Mrs. Galletta got on the phone and said a bunch of times that I “seemed fine” and that it was totally okay with them if I stayed there. After that, Mom said she was going to come get me first thing in the morning.

Let me tell you something: Of all the things I never, ever expected to happen in my life, I’d say that a sleepover at Jeanne Galletta’s house was somewhere near the top of the list. Staying in their guest room that night was just about the weirdest possible ending to a really weird day.

Not that I slept much. Mostly, I just lay there and thought about Mom, and how stupid I was for doing this. Also, how glad I was that I didn’t have to camp out in a dark, cold storage locker that night. (Seriously—what was I thinking?)

And when Mom said she was coming first thing in the morning, she meant it. By six o’clock, Mrs. Galletta was waking me up and asking Mom if we wanted breakfast before we left.

“We’ll go out and get something,” Mom told her. “I think we need to talk.”

I was pretty sure that meant she needed to kill me in private, but I couldn’t exactly say so. I just thanked Mrs. Galletta (Jeanne was still asleep) and walked out to the car.

As soon as we were alone, I started talking.

“Mom, I—”

But that was as far as I got. Mom leaned right across the seat and gave me this big, Grandma-size bear hug. She held on for a long time too.

“I’m sorry, Mom,” I tried again. It didn’t sound like much, since my face was mashed up against her coat, but I think she got it.

“Rafe, I’m the one who’s sorry,” she said. “Mr. Crawley told me what happened at school yesterday, and I’m so, so sorry about that.”

“You’re not mad about me taking that money? And the bus?” I said.

Mom finally unhugged me and sat back. “Yes, of course I am,” she said. “But there’s something I need to tell you, Rafe. Something I should have already told you. What happened yesterday in your class only confirmed that for me.”

“Mom, what are you talking about?” I said. There was something super serious going on, or I would have been in much bigger trouble by now.

Why wasn’t she acting mad?

“I’m talking about your dad, sweetheart,” she said. “I want to show you something.”