“You know where the Silver Bell Diner is?” I say, trying not to look at the chocolate stuff on his chin.
“Down seven or eight blocks, left on Spruce, down two blocks on the left.”
I hear what the guy says but it ain’t sinking in. Maybe ‘cause of how he’s looking at me, like Why is two kids asking directions to a diner at six in the morning?
“So, um, down some blocks then, um. . .”
“Spruce,” he says, “then left. You kids are up early,” he says. “Heading to the diner for breakfast?”
“Our mom works there,” Albert says.
I squeeze his arm to shut him up.
“Is she there now?”
I squeeze Albert’s arm harder. “Yeah,” I say. “She’s working right now. She said come down so we are.”
The man reaches over, shuts off the TV. “By yourselves? Your mom knows you’re coming?”
“Yeah. Spruce, right? I remember now,” I say. “Thanks. C’mon, Albert.”
I start for the door, pulling Albert.
“Wait a minute,” the guy says.
No way.