and ran right into my father。 “Stop him！” I cried。
“Calm down； Julianna；” he said； and eased me back inside。 “I gave him permission。”
“Permission！ Permission to do what？” I flew back to the window。 “He's digging a hole。”
“That's right。 I told him he could。”
“But why？”
“I think the boy has a very good idea； that's why。”
“But—”
“It's not going to kill your grass； Julianna。 Just let him do what he's e to do。”
“But what is it？ What's he doing？”
“Watch。 You'll figure it out。”
It was torture seeing him dig up my grass。 The hole he was making was enormous！ How
could my father let him do this to my yard？
Bryce knew I was there； too； because he looked at me once and nodded。 No smile； no wave；
just a nod。
He dragged over some potting soil； pierced the bag with the spade； and shoveled dirt into the
hole。 Then he disappeared。 And when he came
back； he wrestled a big burlapped root ball across the lawn； the branches of a plant rustling
back and forth as he moved。
My dad joined me on the couch and peeked out the window； too。
“A tree？” I whispered。 “He's planting a tree？”
“I'd help him； but he says he has to do this himself。”
“Is it a …” The words stuck in my throat。
I didn't really need to ask； though； and he knew he didn't need to answer。 I could tell from the
shape of the leaves； from the texture of the trunk。
This was a s