Keep Quiet(56)

Jake’s phone started ringing in his hand, and he looked at the screen. It showed a picture of Pam again, the photo taken on Myrtle Beach, in happier times. He picked up and pressed ANSWER. “Hi, honey. You forget something?”

“I’m worried.” Pam sounded tense. “I thought you told me that Ryan went to Western Civ today.”

“He did.”

“No, he didn’t.”

“How do you know that?” Jake asked, dismayed.

“I checked the Parent Portal.”

Jake cursed the Parent Portal, which was an online program by which Concord Chase parents could log in and check on their kids’ daily assignments, tests and paper grades. Pam checked it as often as she checked their bank balances or her carbohydrate count.

“Jake, he was absent from class. He missed his test.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course. The Portal doesn’t lie.”

“It could be a mistake.”

“No it couldn’t. The information comes from the teachers themselves. Mr. Nelson even made a note on the Portal that Ryan has to contact him to schedule a makeup exam.”

“Mr. Nelson might’ve made a mistake.” Jake knew it was lame the minute he said it. He couldn’t think of something better to say. It was exhausting, all this lying, putting out fires.

“Jake, come on. If Ryan’s not in class, you notice. He could be really sick.” Pam’s voice sounded thin with anxiety. “I called the school nurse, but she’s at another school on Mondays. I called the office, but they don’t answer after four o’clock.”

“Don’t get all worked up, honey.” Jake logged out of the Gardenia accounts and cleared his Internet history, just in case. “Did he go to the class after Western Civ?”

“He doesn’t have class after that. He has Study Hall, last period of the day on Monday.”

Jake didn’t know Ryan’s class schedule, but Pam had it memorized, every year. “I’m sure he’s fine.”

“Don’t minimize it, Jake. He could be really sick.”

“I’m not minimizing it,” Jake said, though that was exactly what he was doing. “He’s not a hundred percent, but I’m sure he’s fine. He was fine when I left him.”

“How do you know that? You didn’t feel his forehead, did you?”

“No, but he looked fine.” Jake got up from his desk and went to get his coat from the back of the door. He had to find Ryan, either at practice or at home, and see what happened.

“How he looks doesn’t mean anything. You’re taking this too lightly. You never think anything can go wrong, but it can.”

“I’m not taking it lightly.” Jake couldn’t believe the irony. No one knew better than he that things could go wrong. He opened his office door and hurried into the hallway.

“I called his phone again but he still doesn’t answer, and I know he usually checks it after school, before practice. That means he didn’t return my first phone call.”

“He told me he broke his phone, I should have mentioned that.” Jake looked around but Amy wasn’t at her desk. He didn’t leave her a note because he didn’t want her to blow his cover again.

“I assume he went to practice. But what’s he up to? It’s not like him to cut class. If he’s not sick, something went wrong with your plan.”

“I understand, and I’ll take it up with him as soon as I get home.” Jake hurried down the hall toward reception.

“Good. I’m not going to be home ’til ten or so, maybe later, but you should be the one to get to the bottom of this, anyway.”

“I agree. I’ll take care of it.”

“Jake, remember, if he’s not sick, he lied to you. You have to call him out on that, even though you’re Fun Dad.”

Jake couldn’t remember ever wanting to be Fun Dad, much less having any fun. He passed Debbie and he pointed to his phone, so he had an excuse for not telling her where he was going. “Got it. Don’t worry about it. Good luck with your meeting, and I’ll see you when you get home.”

“Text me and let me know how he is.”

“I will. Love you.” Jake flew out of the office, bypassing the elevator and jogging toward the stairwell.

“Love you, too. See you later. Bye.”

“Bye.” Jake hung up on the fly, banging through the exit doors, off to go find his son.





Chapter Twenty-six


“Ryan?” Jake opened the bedroom door to find his son asleep on top of the comforter in his practice sweat suit, his hoodie pulled over his head and his ears plugged with his earbuds. His arm was flopped over Moose, who was asleep, amid an open laptop, textbooks, and school papers.

“Ryan!” Jake said, louder. He was still in his suit jacket, breathless. He’d raced home, but traffic had been terrible. He approached the bed, but only Moose woke up, thumping his tail on the comforter and raising his head slightly.

Jake sat down on the edge of the bed, gave the dog a quick pat, and tugged one of the earbuds from Ryan’s ear. “Ryan, wake up.”

“Dad?” Ryan’s eyelids fluttered, and Jake rubbed his arm, in the cottony sweatshirt.

“How are you doing, pal? Are you okay?”