Eli blushed. “It was only one glove.”
“That’s exactly my point,” Mr. Collins said.
Box #5 held a pass for the skatepark.
Eli’s smile slowly faded.
I rested a hand on his shoulder. “You okay?”
“Dad said he’d teach me how to skate.”
“I remember.”
“I still want to go,” Eli said. “But not the big ramp.”
Box #6 contained four dollars and thirty-eight cents from a seven-year-old girl named Maddie.
Eli stared down at the coins. “Mom, we can’t keep this.”
“No,” I said. “So what do we do?”
He looked toward the Route 47 stop. “We share it.”
My eyes followed his toward the bus shelter on the corner.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
Eli turned Maddie’s coins over in his hand. “If people brought all this because one person didn’t have an umbrella, maybe we make sure the next person does.”
I looked at
