“He’s telling me that Ryan gets tense when I come to games. That’s out of line.”
“Ryan wants your approval, you know that. He wants to play well when you come. He doesn’t need you to get him in bad with the coaches. God, they talk to the recruiters all the time. You want to queer it for him? What were you thinking?” Pam shook her head, missing the jump ball that started the game.
“Pam, I’m his father—” Jake noticed the Chasers’ moms sneaking a glance at them, so he kept his voice low. “And I don’t want you talking to any third party about something as personal as my relationship to my own son—”
“Oh, please.” Pam rolled her eyes. “Don’t be such a control freak.”
“It’s our business, my business—”
“You’re justjealous,and you have absolutely no right to be. Nature abhors a vacuum, Jake, and Dr. Dave stepped in to fill a void that was created byyou.He didn’t go looking for Ryan, Ryan went looking forhim.” Pam’s fair skin flushed with resentment. “Now you’ve decided to step back in, and good for you, but don’t expect everything to be just the way you want it, right away. It takes time. You have toearnyour way in.”
Jake regretted bringing up the subject here. Chasers’ and Cardinals’ families were eyeing them, even though the game was in full swing. “Pam, relax—”
“No. You can’t just snap your fingers and make people do what you say, or feel what you want them to feel. I hope you didn’t piss Dr. Dave off.” Pam craned her neck, scanning the sidelines of the court. “You should go see him right now and apologize. He usually sits in the front row behind the bench. Do you see him?”
“I have nothing to apologize for, Pam.”
“Then I will.” Pam pointed. “There he is, by Coach Marsh.”
“Pam, really?”
“Absolutely.” Pam rose and made her way down the row, then the stairs, toward the court.
Jake lost sight of her, then gave up. He felt eyes boring into his back, but he had bigger problems than being the subject of gossip. He had Lewis Deaner on the brain. He didn’t know who the man was and if he knew something or was bluffing. Jake felt his gut clench and tried to get into the basketball game. The lighted scoreboard readHome 10, Away 4.The Chasers were behind. There were nine minutes left in the first quarter, so there was plenty of time to catch up. Ryan stole the ball and dribbled it down the court, his hair flying.
“Go, Ryan,” Jake shouted, making a megaphone of his hands.
“Ryan, Ryan, Ryan!” chanted the Chasers’ student section.
“Shoot, Ryan! Shoot!” called a Chasers’ mom in back.
“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?”
