Fletcher clears his throat. I turn at the last sound and see he’s laid down a red and white checkered blanket in the broad span of green grass, and he is waiting for me to sit down first. He lifts his book of the week—Anne of Green Gables—and the pink flowers on the cover match well with the pink on his neck, cheeks, and the very tip of his crooked nose. It makes me want to pinch it.
