Chapter 9
My mother stood by the open door, clutching her robe tighter at the neck. “We don’t have a gift for him or anything.”
“Oh, no, that’s not expected or even necessary.” Johan’s booming voice echoed through our depressing apartment. He squeezed my shoulder. “What do you say, Red?”
It was Sunday night, Boone’s thirteenth birthday, and Johan had come to invite me over for cake. After I followed him into the Lund home, I couldn’t remember if I’d even said good night to Mom. In the Lund apartment there was a buzzing energy, almost like I was stepping into a beehive. There were blond kids running around everywhere. Family, I supposed. Cousins.
“Take your coat off, son.” Johan patted my shoulder and walked away. At the end of the carpeted hall, many voices were spilling out of the kit
