So was Denise.
And Parker was sitting beside her holding the football.
A wave of noise moved through the stadium.
Denise’s face went bright red.
Then Cole was handed
a microphone.
“I need to clear something up,” he said.
The crowd quieted enough for his voice to carry.
“I threw that football to the little girl holding the sign about her dad.”
People around us began clapping.
Maisie squeezed my hand.
Cole continued.
“I saw what happened afterward, and I think everybody in that section knows exactly who that ball belongs to.”
Denise sank lower into her seat.
Parker looked miserable.
His mother leaned toward him.
“Just give it back.”
He stared at her.
“You took it.”
“I said give it back.”
Something about her suddenly trying to make him responsible seemed to bother him.
