Almost every page contained a Saturday date.

Noah began reading.

“Boy came at 8:10. Too hot today. Told him to stop early. He ignored me.”

Another entry:

“Rain. Thought he wouldn’t come. He came.”

Then:

“Exams this week. Looks tired.”

“Graduation next month. Hope he gets where he’s going.”

There were four years of entries.

Four years of Mr. Vance quietly noticing everything Noah believed he had missed.

Near the end, one sentence was underlined.

Need to tell him thank you properly.

Noah closed the notebook.

“I thought he barely noticed me.”

Later, Aaron found an entry that made him freeze.

“Boy reminds me of Aaron at that age. Quiet. Stubborn. Better with his hands than words.”

Aaron wiped his eyes.

“He used to say that about me.”

Mr. Vance hadn’t simply been watching Noah.

In some strange way, Noah had reminded him of the son he no longer knew how to reach.

PART 3

The fourth Saturday arrived.