“Tell me what he was like . . . when you’re ready,” I said instead. “I want to hear all about him.” “Okay.” He picked up the rod again. Then added, “Sorry for going all emo on your last day.” “Suits my mood, anyway.” I shrugged. “I’m kind of depressed about summer ending. I don’t want to go home tomorrow.” He bumped my knee with his. “I don’t want you to go, either.”
