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her earliest convenience.”
    Mr. Corrigan looked a bit startled. “Will do,” he said.
    I stood up. “Should I ask Mary for a ride?”
    A large plate or maybe a platter crashed in the kitchen.
    Mr. Corrigan shut his eyes. “No, you walk, Taco. Think about what’s happening and what we discussed.”
    I nodded at Mr. Corrigan. “Okay. That sounds good.” I reached out my hand so we could shake on it.
    Mr. Corrigan stared at my hand for a moment. He smiled really sad, but he didn’t take it.
    From the kitchen Mrs. Corrigan screamed, “His name is Taco! Taco! Taco!”
    â€œIt’s William,” Maggie hollered.
    â€œBetter run along, son,” Mr. Corrigan said.
    I smiled, but it wasn’t my best smile because I felt pretty sick to my stomach from all this. Then out the door I went.
    On the walk home, I wondered what Mr. Corrigan was getting at with his comment about Mrs. Corrigan and Maggie’s counseling. Anger? Is that why people go to counseling? I thought, Maybe Darius should go to counseling. That seemed so dumb though, because Darius wasn’t crazy. He just drank too much and was born mad.
    Then I thought about Mrs. Corrigan breaking that glass. I thought, What you saw was real, Taco. It really happened.
    No duh, dingus.
    On I walked, and I worried. What if Maggie’s parents really thought she was crazy, not just mad? What if they took Maggie away and stuck her in an insane asylum or something?
    I thought, Mr. Corrigan can help me if I help him? What does that even mean?
    Then right by this giant lawn next to the old Roundtree Building, the first building ever built for the college, I saw some barn swallows chasing each other like Star Wars swamp speeders. Those damn birds can fly, pal!
    Zigzag! Zigzag!
    Super cool.
    Birds don’t worry.

Chapter 9
    The Corrigans didn’t send Maggie away to an insane asylum. They sent her to the suite. Seriously!
    Mr. Corrigan himself called around 9:00 p.m. that night. I lumbered down the hall. (I needed a good night’s rest to recover after all that walking.) Then I grabbed the bleating phone.
    â€œI’d like to drop off Maggie, Taco,” Mr. Corrigan said.
    â€œTonight?”
    â€œNow,” Mr. Corrigan said. “We’re at our wits’ end over here. She and her mother need space, and I don’t know what else to do. So…now?”
    â€œThat’s a surprise, Reggie, but you got it. Bring her over,” I said. “I can be the responsible party.”
    He cleared his throat. “Maggie says your father knows about the pregnancy and supports her staying with you while we sort all this out. Is that true?”
    I bit my lip on that one. I figured Dad wouldn’t be very supportive, but that wasn’t really the point at the moment. Maggie clearly needed to get out of the house or Reggie wouldn’t be yammering on the horn at me, so I bluffed, which I’m not proud of. “My father believes Maggie and I should be together, yes.”
    â€œUh-huh,” Mr. Corrigan said. “Is there a number where he can be reached?”
    â€œNo. He’s on the open road. Trucking,” I explained.
    â€œAnd he doesn’t carry a cell phone?” Mr. Corrigan asked.
    â€œNo, sir. He thinks cell phones cause blindness and brain cancer.” This wasn’t true, but my mom believed that, so it seemed plausible.
    â€œFine. When you next speak with him, please ask him to call me to discuss our situation. In the meantime, I’d like to drop off Maggie,” Mr. Corrigan said.
    â€œSweet ass,” I said after I hung up.
    Ten minutes later Maggie knocked on the front door. She was carrying an overnight bag. I let her in without a word. Mr. Corrigan waited in front of the house to see that she got in safely. I gave him a smile and a big wave. He nodded and then eased the car away from the curb and disappeared into the Bluffton night.
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