Maisie thought for a moment.
“My dad used to say doing something bad doesn’t mean you have to keep doing it.”
I looked at her.
Gavin had said that about a completely different situation involving a broken kitchen lamp, but I decided not to ruin the moment.
Parker smiled.
“Your dad sounds pretty cool.”
“Yes, I heard him.”
“Are we going?”
An usher was already walking toward us.
I laughed through my tears.
“Apparently we are.”
Denise stared straight ahead while the people around us applauded Maisie.
Nobody yelled at her or called her names.
They didn’t need to.
She had spent the last several minutes insisting her son deserved the ball because he was the real football fan, only to have an entire stadium watch him return it to the eight-year-old girl she’d mocked.
