“Nice mailbox,” I say.
“I made it last year for my woodworking class,” Christian says. “Well, Dad and I made it.”
“Mostly you, son. And you did a fantastic job.”
“I got an A.”
I turn in my seat. “I can see that about you. You’re a pretty smart kid, huh?”
He touches the rim of his glasses. “It’s the glasses. Everyone thinks kids with glasses are smart. I mean, yeah, I am. But I’m getting Lasik soon. It’s been almost three months since my other eye surgery, and once that time is up, I can do the Lasik and get rid of these things once and for all.” He cocks his head. “I wonder if people will think I’m not smart anymore.”
Christian’s words are slow and deliberate as he speaks. I’ve never spoken to anyone with CP before, so I wasn’t sure what to expect. Every once in a while it sounds like he’s slurring, but I barely notice it, more taken in by his easy, casual demeanor.
“Not possible,” Carter says like a proud father as he pulls into the garage. “Honor roll kid all the way.”
“What about you, Bug?” I ask. “You look like you have a good head on your shoulders. Are you on the honor roll too?”
She nods and touches Amelia’s arm. “Make good grades. Good grades will go a long way to getting that pink hair.”
“I can read,” Amelia says proudly.
“No way.” Christian’s words are over-the-top as he’s clearly feeding her tiny ego. “Aren’t you a little young to know how to read?”
“I’ll be five soon.”
I laugh. “In four months, Amelia.”
“Is that a long time?” she asks.
“Four months is nothing,” Christian says. “It’ll be here before you know it.” He taps my shoulder. “Can she really read?”
“She can. And she reads at the level of a six-year-old.”
Christian beams at my daughter. “You must have a good teacher.”
“Mommy teaches me.”
Carter arches a brow. “She’s not in preschool?”
I shake my head then shrug. “She used to go. But I’ve had a lot of downtime recently, so she doesn’t anymore. Nothing else to do really.”
He stares at me like he’s about to ask more, but Bug and Christian get out of the back seat, and I guess he realizes we’ve been sitting in the car all this time. He reaches back and unbuckles Amelia then gets out of the car. “I guess I’ll give you the tour then?”
Remembering the outrageous reason we’re here, I nod, collect Amelia, and we follow him inside.
“Nice to meet you, Mrs… uh…” Bug looks to Christian, not knowing what to call me.
“Our last name is Bennett. But please just call me Kenna,” I say. “You aren’t staying?”
She thumbs at the much larger house next door. “I have homework, and I have to help with the twins. Besides…” Sheglances at Carter. “We’re not allowed to hang out unless we’re ‘supervised by a parent’,” she air quotes in humorous sarcasm.
I totally get it. With the way these two teens were staring at each other on the sidewalk, if she were Amelia, I’d insist on a chaperone.
“Stupid rule,” Christian adds. “We’re fifteen.”
“Not a stupid rule,” Carter says. “You do know I was still in high school and only a few years older than you when you were born, right? It only takesonetime, you know.”
“Gross,” Christian says, then turns red when he looks at Bug.
