Keep Quiet(41)

“DEFENSE!” bellowed one of the Cardinals’ dads.

Ryan stopped with the ball, his sneakers squealing, faced the basket, and took a jumper from the outside, like he had in the driveway this morning. The crowd shrieked as the ball hit the transparent backboard, bounced onto the rim, and dropped outside the hoop, missing the basket. Ryan seemed to stall, as if rooted to the shiny wooden floor.

“Follow your shot, Ryan!” somebody shouted in back.

And Jake’s heart sank, because he knew what he was seeing.

He’s off.





Chapter Nineteen


Pam drove home because they’d taken her car, and Jake rode in the passenger seat, in suburban exile. They’d barely spoken for the remainder of the game, and he didn’t know if she’d talked to Dr. Dave, though he assumed she had because she’d been on the warpath. Jake’s thoughts kept circling to Lewis Deaner, and he’d spent the rest of the game looking for him in the crowd. He’d even checked the parking lot after the game let out, but no luck.

Pam braked when they came to a red light and glanced in the rearview mirror at Ryan, who sat in the backseat, plugged into his iPhone, listening to music. The Chasers won, forty-five to thirty-eight, but Ryan had been benched for the second half, unprecedented in his basketball career. He’d scored six points instead of his usual fifteen or so, and missed every three-pointer. He hadn’t played good defense either, and the ball had been stolen from him twice. After the game, he’d come out of the locker room with his head down, stone-faced and atypically apart from his teammates, who’d emerged laughing, talking, and slapping five after the victory.

“How are you feeling, honey?” Pam asked, to the rearview mirror. The sky around them was gray-bright, thick with a winter cloud. The air smelled damp and chilled, like snow was coming.

Ryan didn’t reply. Jake glanced back, but he couldn’t see Ryan, who was sitting behind him.

“Ryan? You okay?” Pam repeated, louder, though it was obvious that Ryan was avoiding conversation. He knew Ryan had to be dying inside, the least of his worries being the way he’d played.

“Ryan!” Pam said, more sharply, because she knew when she was being avoided, too.

“I’m fine, Mom.”

“Honey, don’t beat yourself up. Everybody’s entitled to a bad day, and you’ve been sick. Your body can’t recover that fast. You’re probably dehydrated.” Pam squinted into the rearview. The traffic light was still red. “Don’t you have any water with you?”

“No.”

“We could stop at McDonald’s or Dunkin’ and get you some. You want to?”

“No thanks.”

“But they’re on the way home, and you must be hungry. Don’t you want to stop and get something to eat? It might perk you up.”

“I don’t want anything.”

“What did Coach Marsh say?”

“Not much.”

“But what?”

“He said, next time to tell him if I’m not feeling good.”

Pam frowned. “Okay. But what would he have done differently?”

Ryan shrugged.

“He didn’t say?”

“No.”

“He would have played you, no matter what. You’ve never not started.”

Ryan said nothing.

“Did you talk to Dr. Dave?” Pam glanced sideways at Jake, who knew that she wanted to know if Dr. Dave had said anything about their argument.

Ryan didn’t reply.

The traffic light turned green, and Pam hit the gas. “Ryan, did you talk to Dr. Dave?”

“Yeah.”

“What did he say?”

“Nothing.”

“Ryan, he didn’t say nothing,” Pam shot back, her tone exasperated. “Can’t you fill me in? Do I have to pull teeth here?”

“Mom, watch your driving!”

Jake cringed. “Ryan, please don’t talk to your mother that way.”

Ryan gestured to the road. “Dad, she’s not looking where she’s going. She didn’t even see that Subaru, turning left.”

Pam frowned in annoyance. “I saw it, Ryan. It wasn’t anywhere near us.”

Jake didn’t know what Subaru he was talking about, but anxiety was plain in his son’s voice. “I’m sure she did, Ryan. Just watch your tone.”

Pam’s head snapped toward Jake. “Thanks, but I can talk to my son myself. I don’t need you to intervene.”

Jake let it go. He knew she was only blowing off steam and he wasn’t about to fight with her. Instead he looked out the window, and his gaze flitted restlessly over the strip mall with its CVS, Subway, and Rita’s Water Ice, a sight he found oddly comforting. He’d heard people complain that the country had become so homogeneous, with the same chain stores everywhere, but he didn’t have a problem with that. The chains were a part of his daily routine: he got his coffee at the Wawa, his turkey hoagies at the Subway near his office, and his chocolate-covered doughnut at Dunkin’ Donuts drive-thru, right before he hit the on-ramp. The sameness of the stores and their food implicitly reassured him that everything would always be the same in his life, at least until recently.

I bet you drive a nice car, like an Audi.