One of Us is Lying(31)
She hands the phone to Vanessa, who gives an exaggerated, breathless “Ohhh!” Addy pushes food around on her plate without ever lifting her fork to her mouth, and I’m about to ask her if she wants me to get her something else when my phone rings.
Vanessa keeps hold of it and snorts, “Who calls during lunch? Everybody you know is already here!” She looks at the screen, then at me. “Ooh, Cooper. Who’s Kris? Should Keely be jealous?”
I don’t answer for a few seconds too long, then too fast. “Just, um, a guy I know. From baseball.” My whole face feels hot and prickly as I take the phone from Vanessa and send it to voice mail. I wish like hell I could take that call, but now’s not the time.
Vanessa raises an eyebrow. “A boy who spells Chris with a K?”
“Yeah. He’s … German.” God. Stop talking. I put my phone in my pocket and turn to Keely, whose lips are slightly parted like she’s about to ask a question. “I’ll call him back later. So. A flapper, huh?”
I’m about to head home after the last bell when Coach Ruffalo stops me in the hall. “You didn’t forget about our meeting, did you?”
I exhale in frustration because yeah, I did. Pop’s leaving work early so we can meet with a lawyer, but Coach Ruffalo wants to talk college recruiting. I’m torn, because I’m pretty sure Pop would want me to do both at the same time. Since that’s not possible, I follow Coach Ruffalo and figure I’ll make it quick. His office is next to the gym and smells like twenty years’ worth of student athletes passing through. In other words, not good.
“My phone’s ringing off the hook for you, Cooper,” he says as I sit across from him in a lopsided metal chair that creaks under my weight. “UCLA, Louisville, and Illinois are putting together full-scholarship offers. They’re all pushing for a November commitment even though I told them there’s no way you’ll make a decision before spring.” He catches my expression and adds, “It’s good to keep your options open. Obviously the draft’s a real possibility but the more interest there is on the college level, the better you’ll look to the majors.”
“Yes, sir.” It’s not draft strategy I’m worried about. It’s how these colleges will react if the stuff on Simon’s app gets out. Or if this whole thing spirals and I keep getting investigated by the police. Are all these offers gonna dry up, or am I innocent until proven guilty? I’m not sure if I should be telling any of this to Coach Ruffalo. “It’s just … hard to keep ’em all straight.”
He picks up a thin sheaf of stapled-together papers, waving them at me. “I’ve done it for you. Here’s a list of every college I’ve been in touch with and their current offer. I’ve highlighted the ones I think are the best fit or will be most impressive to the majors. I wouldn’t necessarily put Cal State or UC Santa Barbara on the short list, but they’re both local and offering facility tours. You want to schedule those some weekend, let me know.”
“Okay. I … I have some family stuff coming up, so I might be kinda busy for a while.”
“Sure, sure. No rush, no pressure. It’s entirely up to you, Cooper.”
People always say that but it doesn’t feel true. About anything.
I thank Coach Ruffalo and head into the almost-empty hallway. I have my phone in one hand and Coach’s list in the other, and I’m so lost in thought as I look between them that I almost mow someone over in my path.
“Sorry,” I say, taking in a slight figure with his arms wrapped around a box. “Uh … hey, Mr. Avery. You need help carrying that?”
“No thank you, Cooper.” I’m a lot taller than he is, and when I look down I don’t see anything but folders in the box. I guess he can manage those. Mr. Avery’s watery eyes narrow when he sees my phone. “I wouldn’t want to interrupt your texting.”
“I was just …” I trail off, since explaining the lawyer appointment I’m almost late for won’t win me any points.
Mr. Avery sniffs and adjusts his grip on the box. “I don’t understand you kids. So obsessed with your screens and your gossip.” He grimaces like the word tastes bad, and I’m not sure what to say. Is he making a reference to Simon? I wonder if the police bothered questioning Mr. Avery this weekend, or if he’s been disqualified by virtue of not having a motive. That they know of, anyway.
He shakes himself, like he doesn’t know what he’s talking about either. “Anyway. If you’ll excuse me, Cooper.”
All he’d have to do to get past me is step aside, but I guess that’s my job. “Right,” I say, moving out of his way. I watch him shuffle down the hall and decide to leave my stuff in my locker and head for the car. I’m late enough as it is.
I’m stopped at the last red light before my house when my phone beeps. I look down expecting a text from Keely, because somehow I ended up promising we’d get together tonight to plan Halloween costumes. But it’s from my mom.
Meet us at the hospital. Nonny had a heart attack.
Chapter Eleven
Nate
Monday, October 1, 11:50 p.m.
I made a round of calls to my suppliers this morning to tell them I’m out of commission for a while. Then I threw away that phone. I still have a couple of others. I usually pay cash for a bunch at Walmart and rotate them for a few months before replacing them.