"Good night." he replied, still well in the
shadows. It was almost as if I was talking to a ghost. When I returned from school that Monday, I
hurried to change into a pair of jeans and a more
casual blouse and sneakers. Then I shot out of the
house and hurried to see Harley. I saw the motorcycle
was there beside the garage where he kept it covered
with a piece of canvas. He had told me Uncle Roy
wouldn't permit him to keep it in the garage, which
was all right with him because he was afraid Uncle
Roy might accidentally on purpose run it over. I knocked on the door and Aunt Glenda
appeared, wiping her hands on her apron.
"Oh. hi. Summer dear."
"Hi. Aunt Glenda," I said. She opened the door
for me and stepped back, smiling.
"You had such a nice party and so many nice
presents. It was just the sort of sweet sixteen part., I
wish Latisha would have had."
"It was wonderful, Aunt Glenda."
She stared at me a moment, her smile frozen,
but her eves starting to darken with a troubled
thought.
"Is Harley home?" "Harley?"
She looked about as if she was flustered for a
moment, as if the question was so unexpected she
didn't think she could answer it correctly.
"Oh, yes," she said. "I think so anyway," she
added.
"Is he in his room?"
"His room? Yes," she said. "That's it. He's in
his room."