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"Good night." he replied, still well in the

shadows. It was almost as if I was talking to a ghost. When I returned from school that Monday, I

hurried to change into a pair of jeans and a more

casual blouse and sneakers. Then I shot out of the

house and hurried to see Harley. I saw the motorcycle

was there beside the garage where he kept it covered

with a piece of canvas. He had told me Uncle Roy

wouldn't permit him to keep it in the garage, which

was all right with him because he was afraid Uncle

Roy might accidentally on purpose run it over. I knocked on the door and Aunt Glenda

appeared, wiping her hands on her apron.

"Oh. hi. Summer dear."

"Hi. Aunt Glenda," I said. She opened the door

for me and stepped back, smiling.

"You had such a nice party and so many nice

presents. It was just the sort of sweet sixteen part., I

wish Latisha would have had."

"It was wonderful, Aunt Glenda."

She stared at me a moment, her smile frozen,

but her eves starting to darken with a troubled

thought.

"Is Harley home?" "Harley?"

She looked about as if she was flustered for a

moment, as if the question was so unexpected she

didn't think she could answer it correctly.

"Oh, yes," she said. "I think so anyway," she

added.

"Is he in his room?"

"His room? Yes," she said. "That's it. He's in

his room."