“Ant.” Brenda paused like she expected me to respond. When I didn’t, she continued, sounding peeved. “Ricky said Ant likes you, Heather, that he thought you looked really hot at practice today.” “Gross,” I said, remembering how weird he’d acted in the garage. Anton Dehnke could grow up to become a brilliant brain surgeon or an astronaut, and I’d still only see the kid who ate paste in first grade. “And what’s Ricky doing calling you, anyhow? The way Maureen acted today, I figured they were a couple.”
