interfere with our on-time departure for his Boy Scout meeting. Besides, my first inquiry had already been rejected; a second might be met with “I don’t want to talk about it.”

But I know this boy. The Boy Scouts of America would have to wait. I plunged ahead with a slightly more evolved inquiry. I described what I’d seen, and how it looked to me as if there was something on his mind.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

Sometimes it’s fun to be right. This time it wasn’t. His face turned a shade that almost

matched his red hair, and reminded me of angry cartoon characters who eventually blow their scalps off in billows of steam. His cover had been blown, and now the Boy Scouts would have to wait till next week. He set his jaw against me for having noticed his discomfort, and for showing my concern.

I asked if he was angry with me for asking how he was.

“No,” he growled

I asked him if he was just angry.