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didn’t notice Mr. Winslow came back around 7:15, because he was so quiet. Which was totally weird, because he’s ALWAYS yelling about something.
    Tonight he was in another world, wandering, reshelving books, reading. Sunny wasn’t with him; he’d taken her home.
    You finally worked up the courage to ask about his wife. He looked at you — really looked you in the eye for the first time since he hired you — and said in a soft voice, “You’re kind to ask, Chris.”
    Period.
    Nothing else.
    Which just made you worry more.
    At 8:00 you left and made SURE to be home for Family Dinner: the Sequel. It was hard to concentrate. You were thinking about Mrs. Winslow and whether or not you should call Sunny.
    Dad made a pretty good homemade pizza, and Mom passed around some just-developed photos that actually made the Ghana trip look like a GOOD TIME. Soon you were all laughing and chatting, and it felt OK, like the old days, sort of. Ye Older Son Ted gave a boring yet corny toast, and Dad requested that we all have “a little McCrae bonding time” on Saturday, “maybe a special trip or something.”
    Cool. Good idea.
    You kind of wish YOU had thought of a toast too. But you had a lot on your mind.
    After dessert, when Mom, Dad, and Ted went into the den to watch the tube, YOU went to the phone to call Sunny’s house, then Alex’s.
    No answer at either place.
    You left a message on their machines, asking them to call back.
    It’s now 10:47. Neither called.
    It’s probably too late to call again.
    Mrs. Snyder and Paula are probably asleep. Mr. Winslow too.
    Chill, Ducky.
    Try again tomorrow.
    TOMORROW
    Also Known as Friday
    You call Alex. He’s home. And the conversation goes like this:
    D: “What’s up?”
    A: “Whatever.”
    D: “Everything OK?”
    A: “I guess.”
    D: “Coming to school?”
    A: “I have to.”
    D: “I’ll take you.”
    A: “Mom’s driving me.”
    D: “Cool.”
    That’s what you love about talking to Alex. The repartee. The crackling wit.
    Oh, well. At least he’s not skipping school.
    In Which Ducky Sees
    a Light at the End of the Tunnel
    Very faint. A SUGGESTION of a light.
    You spot Alex after homeroom. He’s walking down the hallway slowly, slumped over, his
    shoulder practically pressed against the wall, his hair hanging down over his face.
    The usual.
    You catch up. Say hi. Talk a little.
    Then, as you’re about to part ways — here it comes, drumroll, please — he says, “What are you doing after school?”
    “Nothing,” you said. “You?”
    He shrugs. “I don’t know. Want to hang?”
    “Sure.”
    Ta-da.
    You never thought a question like that would MAKE YOUR DAY.
    But it does.
    You Have Seen the Mountaintop
    and It Looks Like the Pits
    After school you wait for Alex by his locker. You haven’t seen him since lunch.
    Miracle of miracles, he comes shuffling along. Still in school after a FULL DAY.
    You call out to him. “So, where do you want to go?”
    He looks a little confused.
    “To hang out?” you remind him.
    “I don’t know, drive around, I guess,” he said. “The park.”
    “Cool beans.” You pack up your books. Alex isn’t even bothering to touch his locker.
    “No homework?” you ask.
    “No.”
    OK. Fine.
    You walk out together.
    The moment you get through the door, you hear a loud quacking sound, followed by, “It’s the Duckster!”
    You turn to see Jay grinning at you. His arm is around Lisa Bergonzi. Marco Bardwell and Mad Moose Machover are there too. They’re both snickering and communicating with each other with some prehistoric Cro Mag mutterings.
    You say hi and turn away.
    “Hold it!” Jay’s running toward you now, looking all excited about something. “Hey, Duckboy, you remember LeeAnn?”
    At the sound of Jay’s voice, you see Alex’s face tense.
    You are NOT thrilled, because the name LEEANN brings back a certain horrifying BLIND
    DOUBLE DATE you would much, much rather forget.
    “I know, I know, I shouldn’t have set you