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PHILADELPHIA, PENNSYLVANIA
“Granddad, can I ask you something?”
They sit eating ice cream at Baskin-Robbins, chocolate dripping down Davie’s hand. Davie licks the messy combination of cone and hand without concern for germs or social etiquette, the way only a twelve-year-old can.
“Sure, buddy. Somethin’ wrong?” Chaz has sensed a melancholy all morning. Usually Davie’s upbeat, delightfully squirrelly.
Davie looks down at the drops of melted ice cream on the table.
“What is it? You can tell me anything.”
It’s true, this boy could confide his worst inner thoughts—not that he has any—and Chaz wouldn’t judge. He experiences a brief melancholy of his own, wishing he’d been this way with Patrick. It’s hard to believe it’s been five years. Chaz dreads the day when they identify Patrick as one of the bodies in the car in that lake.
Davie looks up, tears building in his eyes.
“What is it, buddy?”
“There’s this kid, Stanton Funkney.”
He waits, but he knows what’s coming. Davie is a gentle boy, the kind who makes an easy target. While the other kids attend sports or outdoor camps for the summer, Davie is at acting camp. He takes after his mother, which is a good thing. His father wasn’t the kindest man. Davie’s mom, Sylvia, hasn’t remarried. Chaz thinks she’s dating again but afraid to tell Chaz. Good for her. She should have a life. For herself, for Davie. He’s just thankful she’s kept him in Davie’s life.
“Funkney?” Chaz makes a face at the name. “This kid picking on you?”
Davie nods, looks at the table again, ashamed.
“Look at me.”
Davie’s eyes move up to his grandfather.
“I was bullied,” Chaz lies. Back in the day, no one would dare take on Chaz Donnelly.
“You?” The boy says this as if his grandfather is the toughest man in the world, which leaves Chaz’s heart melting like the ice cream. Davie bites into the cone.
“Oh yeah, this kid they called George the Giant would torment me.”
Davie’s eyes light up, and he smiles at the made-up name. “What did you do?”
“I got a lot of advice. ‘Don’t take any crap,’ ‘hit him back harder than he hits you,’ that kind of stuff. But he was a lot bigger than me, and I didn’t think that would stop him.”
“What did you do?” Davie repeats the question, eager for advice.
“You’re not gonna like this.”
Davie listens.
“I talked to my mom. She knew what to do. And it stopped. Just like that.” Chaz snaps his fingers.
Davie looks deflated.
“Have you told your mom about this?”
Davie shakes his head.
“Would you like me to talk to her or this kid’s parents?”
“Is it okay if I think about it, Granddad?”
“Of course, buddy.”