The hot Pyrex dish was still almost too warm to set down when Travis took the big metal serving spoon out of my hand. He scraped three heavy helpings of tater tot casserole onto his plate before he even looked across the yellow plastic placemat at Kaylee.
Kaylee had her maroon team jacket zipped up to her chin, even though the kitchen was hot from the gas oven. She smoothed a pale blue paper from Oelwein High School flat against the Formica table, sliding it across until it rested beside Travis’s glass tumbler of milk.
“Mr. Howard gave us these registration cards after practice today,” Kaylee said, resting her fingers on the edge of the blue paper. “He said the senior parents need to sign the line at the bottom and line up in the main hallway by quarter to six on Thursday night.”
Travis set his fork down against
