The next Saturday came.

No Chase.

Neither did he return the week after that.

Then, three days later, I spotted him outside a grocery store climbing into a brand-new black SUV.

At first, I thought I had the wrong kid.

The faded baseball cap was gone. So were the patched jeans and worn sneakers. Chase was wearing a designer polo shirt, spotless shoes, and an expensive-looking watch.

Then he looked directly at me.

It was definitely him.

The SUV drove away before I could call his name.

And suddenly, I wondered whether everything he’d told me had been a lie.

PART 2

The following Saturday, someone knocked on my door.

Chase stood there with the old red mower.

He looked exhausted.

“I know you told me not to come back.”

“I did.”

“I want to explain.”

I stepped aside.

“Then explain.”

He entered my living room but refused to sit. Instead, he twisted his baseball cap between his hands.

“The man driving the SUV was my dad.”

I waited.

“I live with my mom. The court says I have to stay with him every other weekend.”

“So the expensive clothes?”

“They stay at his house.”

He gave a tired little shrug.

“I call them my weekend clothes.”

I didn’t say anything.

“My dad likes people to think he takes care of me.”

“Does he?”

“He buys expensive things.”