Noah frowned.
“I did not.”
“You absolutely did.”
He kept reading.
“Exams this week. Looks tired.”
Another.
“Graduation next month. Hope he gets where he’s going.”
Then:
“Seemed upset today. Didn’t ask. Maybe should have.”
Noah stopped smiling.
There were four years of entries.
Four years of Mr. Vance quietly noticing him.
When Noah was tired.
When he was worried.
When he had learned to drive.
When his graduation was approaching.
When he showed up in the rain.
Near the end of the notebook, one sentence had been underlined.
Need to tell him thank you properly.
Noah closed the notebook.
His voice was quiet.
“He knew all that?”
“I guess he did.”
“I thought he barely noticed me.”
Aaron and Claire came over later.
Noah showed them the notebook.
Aaron read several pages without speaking.
Then suddenly he stopped.
“What?” Claire asked.
Aaron handed the notebook back.
One entry read:
Boy reminds me of Aaron at that age. Quiet. Stubborn. Better with his hands than words.
Aaron looked away.
For a long moment, nobody spoke.
Then he whispered, “Dad used to say that about me.”
Claire touched his shoulder.
