No cheerleaders or redheaded girls in sight. He realized that he had been dreaming and breathed deeply, trying to still his heart from jackhammering his ribcage. He looked at the clock. 5:15 am. He had barely gotten four hours of sleep after tossing most of the night and finally settling into a fitful sleep just after one o'clock. He knew that he couldn't take much more of this. His mother had been concerned when he returned from Daniel's house and went straight to his room and stayed there the rest of the night, even foregoing dinner. He resolved to confront Angela the next day but even that did not make his stomach stop doing gymnastics. In fact, it made it worse. Brad resigned himself to wakefulness and walked downstairs to spend the next couple of hours before school watching television and formulating his plan for the day.She stepped out of the bus onto the sidewalk at the front of the school, looking for all the world like someone's precious little angel. Brad snorted. He. It was not that my day had been particularly difficult or tiring, because it wasn't. It dragged just because it was Friday. The weekend beckoned. I had promised the kids we would see a ballgame on Saturday and spend Sunday afternoon at the local water park. With so much planned, I really wanted a quiet restful evening. I couldn't wait to hit the couch for a little R & R.As I came into the house, the first thing that struck me was the silence. The boys did not come charging at me from two different directions to throw their arms around me and bombard me with all they had done that day. Strange. Passing through the kitchen to grab a drink, I noticed a note on the counter in my wife's neat handwriting. I guessed she must have run out to do some shopping with the boys and would be back shortly. So picking up the note I moved to the couch and flopped down. As I picked up the tv remote I started reading Libby's note. It simply said "Dearest, the boys are at your sister's and I am waiting.
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