time.â
âThree things I like to see: the Yankees win, the Red Sox lose, and some funny-assed shit in the middle of my day. And that, my friend, would have been classic funny-assed shit.â
âTrust me, it wasnât that funny.â
âCoach is gonna be pissed,â Duane said, turning the word into two, overinflected syllables. âYou might get your ass kicked off the team there, pal.â
âYeah, maybe. Weâll see.â
âHope it was worth it.â
Eric didnât say anything.
âThe kid step on your toe or something?â
âNo, nothing like that,â Eric said. âI guess I just felt like doing it.â
âI can relate. I feel like that about every freshman. Whatâs his name?â
âConnor Stark.â
âNo idea. Is he on JV?â
âI doubt it. I think heâs a drama nerd.â
âEven better,â Duane said. âSo, whatâs going to happen to you?â
âI find out tomorrow.â
âI bet itâs two daysâ suspension and a shitload of community service. Plus an extra two miles a day from coach and a couple hundred bleachers. That is, if he doesnât kick your ass off, right there. Your parents gonna come in to school to hear the verdict?â
âOh yeah.â
âTheyâll pile it on, just to show what good parents they are. My guess is you lose the car till Christmas or until they forget, whichever comes first.â
âThey wonât forget,â Eric said, then it got quiet for a second and he was tempted to ask Duane if heâd seen April that day, but he knew what heâd hear: Duane saying âGet over itâ or âMove onâ or his new one, âThat ship has sailed.â So he said nothing.
âRight. Iâm gone. If by some miracle they let you out this weekend, a bunch of us are going to Fredericoâs. Play some FIFA, probably order pizza. Wings.â
âSounds boring.â
âAgreed. But his sister Sophia will be there, and thatâs all I need to know.â
Any other time, Eric would have laughed and told him she was out of his league, but he wasnât in the mood, and besides, it would no doubt end up with Duane saying something about April, and he didnât want to hear it.
âIâd wish you luck tomorrow, my friend,â Duane said, the smirk back in his voice, âbut I donât think itâs gonna help.â
Eric sighed again. As bad as the punishment would be, it would be nothing compared with what would happen if the caller decided to share his secret. âYeah, one way or the other, Iâm pretty much screwed.â
âAnd not in a good way.â
Seven
M S . O WENS POINTED THE REMOTE AT THE SCREEN, PAUSING the video when the words PAUSE HERE appeared, then read the folded paper in her hand. âQuestion one. What did you think of the video clip you just saw?â
It was 8:45 in the morning. Eric was sure that the people in the classâMs. Owens, nineteen students, and a security guardâwerenât thinking a thing. They all had that glazed-over, just-got-up-and-already-exhausted look that went with any first-period class, only this was Saturday, so it was worse.
His father had gotten him out of bed at six, using that rare voice that told Eric heâd better move it. His parents had let him drive himself, but it was more out of convenience for them than trust in him.
Heâd arrived at the Jefferson County Community Center at seven, twenty minutes before the first staff member pulled in. There were a handful of cars in the parking lot, most with a kid in the passenger seat and a stern-faced parent behind the wheel. He recognized the lookâpart anger, part shame, big part disappointment. It was the look heâd been getting since âthe incident,â his motherâs new favorite phrase.
It was 8:20 before Ms. Owens started collecting paperwork and putting
X
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Jan (ILT) J. C.; Gerardi Greenburg