“It’s my fault, Mr. Harver,” Justin said.
Henry’s father looked at Justin, then at Henry, and then at Bryce lying in his
sleeping bag. He turned around and started climbing the stairs. “Go to bed,
boys.”
Henry awoke to a noise in the night and looked around in confusion. After
his father left, they had ejected the tape and gone to sleep without talking. It
was too dark to make out more than shapes in the room. Justin was a mound
of sleeping bag on the couch, but Bryce’s bag was flat on the carpet. Henry
could see a faint light from the kitchen upstairs and heard voices. He crawled
out of his sleeping bag and crept over to the stairs.
“...bother you, Roxanne, but he says he wants to come home. I tried to sit
with him again, but it’s no use.”
There was a pause, and Henry thought he heard a sniffle. Then his father said,
“Thanks. I’d bring him myself, but the others can’t be here alone.” Another
pause. “Okay then. See you in a bit.” Henry heard his father hang up and
then say softly, “You can’t keep doing this, Bryce. If you want to sleep over,
you have to stay the whole night. Do you want some chocolate milk?”
Henry found his sleeping bag again as he heard the refrigerator open. He lay
down and turned toward the couch. Justin was awake. His eyes caught the
light from upstairs.
“What’s going on?” Justin whispered. “Is Bryce going home again?”
“Yeah,” Henry said.
“He’s such a baby. I’m glad he’s leaving.”
Henry smiled and crossed his arms behind his head on the pillow.
“What does 69 mean?” Justin asked.
“I don’t really know,” Henry said.