“I was frightened.”
I smiled.
“She must be thrilled.”
“She is. She’s also informed me that I know absolutely nothing about sewing.”
I laughed.
“Neither do I.”
“Apparently, that’s a serious character flaw.”
“She must be thrilled.”
Opening night arrived three weeks later.
The school auditorium was crowded with parents holding programs and searching for empty seats.
“Jacob sat beside me.”
When the curtain rose, I spotted the blue vest Lily had made.
Its crooked pocket was still there.
Afterward, we found the children putting costumes away.
Lily wasn’t wearing her wig.
She’d taken it off because the backstage area was warm.
“Lily wasn’t wearing her wig.”
Ethan barely noticed.
He was busy untangling a costume from a hanger.
Jacob approached Lily.
“I saw your vest.”
She grinned.
“The pocket’s still crooked.”
“I noticed.”
“Don’t say it.”
“I saw your vest.”
“I wasn’t going to.”
She laughed.
Then Jacob looked at Ethan.
