8
Todd stood outside Cal’s front door, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. Bathed in the yellow glow of a Bug-A-Way bulb, he had yet to summon the courage to ring the doorbell or to raise his hand to knock. He felt a warm breeze that made the leaves in the maple tree behind him whisper. He heard the whispers as tiny voices, urging him on. The crickets chirped and in their musical monotony, he could imagine their song as the same urging.
Just get it over with. Knock. Ringing the doorbell seemed so Mystery Date or Avon Lady to Todd.
Taking a breath, he raised his hand, made a fist, and allowed himself a brief three taps on the wooden screen door.
The door opened more quickly than Todd could have imagined, before, really, he had a chance to even remove his knuckles from the
