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The snow stopped by three p.m., and the sun came out and melted it away,
so that by the time the game started at five-thirty, its only remnant
was the soggy ground around the bleachers with the new grass growing out
of the ragged brown memory of last summer's lawn.
Alan took the little ones for dinner at the diner after school, letting
them order double chocolate-chip pancakes. At 13, they'd settled into a
fatness that made him think of a foam-rubber toy, the rolls and dimples
at their wrists and elbows and knees like the seams on a doll.
"You're starting high school next year?" Alan said, as they were pouring
syrup on their second helping. He was startled by this -- how had they
gotten so old so quickly?
"Uh-huh," Eli said. "I guess."
"So you're graduating from elementary school this spring?"
"Yeah." Eli grinned a chocolate smile at him. "It's no big deal. There's
a party, though."
"Where?"
"At some kid's house."
"It's okay," Alan said. "We can celebrate at home. Don't let them get to
you."
"We can't go?" Ed suddenly looked a little panicked.
"You're invited?" He blurted it out and then wished he hadn't.
"Of course we're invited," Fred said from inside Ed's throat. "There's
going to be dancing."
"You can dance?" Alan asked.
"We can!" Ed said.
"We learned in gym," Greg said, with the softest, proudest voice, deep
within them.
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