Chương 8
He stepped beneath it.
The weight settled across his shoulders.
This was fear he understood. Weight announced itself honestly. It did not pretend to be small. It did not shine beneath soft lights or arrive in the hand of a cheerful nurse. It pushed downward, and he pushed upward. There were rules.
He carried the yoke from one end of the shed to the other.
On the fourth pass, his phone rang through the speaker system.
Rachel.
He let it ring.
On the fifth pass, she called again.
He set the yoke down.
“What?” he answered.
“Caleb’s mother called.”
Marcus wiped sweat from his face. “What happened?”
“He left the house.”
“What do you mean, left?”
“They argued. He said he was going to the gym. He isn’t here.”
“Where’s his father?”
“Not living with them anymore. Apparently Caleb found out this week.”
Marcus looked toward the dark window of the shed. His own reflection hovered over the yard.
“Did she call the police?”
“She’s calling now. I’m checking the routes between their apartment and the gym.”
“I’ll go.”
“You’re thirty minutes away.”
“I said I’ll go.”
“Meet me at Titan House.”
He was already moving.
Caleb’s apartment stood four miles from the gym. The boy normally took the number eighteen bus, but Rachel knew he sometimes walked when angry. She drove the route slowly, checking bus shelters and convenience stores while talking to his mother through the car speakers.
Marcus searched the blocks near Titan House.
The rain had strengthened. It painted the road black and gathered in the seams of the sidewalks. Marcus drove with both hands on the wheel, calling Caleb every three minutes.
No answer.
At nine forty, Rachel found his backpack beneath the pedestrian bridge over the river.
She called Marcus.
He arrived six minutes later and parked behind her car at an angle. Rachel stood on the wet path, holding the backpack against her green dress. Her hair clung to her face.
“Where is he?” Marcus asked.
“I don’t know.”
They walked beneath the bridge, calling his name. The river moved darkly beyond the railing. Traffic hissed overhead.
Marcus’s chest tightened, but this fear did not make him want to run. It sharpened the world. Every shadow became a shape to examine.
They found Caleb sitting on a concrete maintenance step twenty yards beyond the bridge, protected from the rain by an overhang. His hood was up. His shoes were soaked.
Marcus stopped several feet away.
Rachel exhaled so hard it sounded painful.
Caleb looked at them, then at the ground.
“You left your bag,” Marcus said.
“I know.”
“Your mother thinks you’re dead.”
Caleb’s jaw moved. “I texted her.”
“You texted her a period.”
“So she knew my phone worked.”
Marcus took one step closer. “Stand up.”
Rachel touched his arm.
He looked at her.
“Not like that,” she said.
The words were quiet.
Marcus glanced back at Caleb. The boy’s shoulders had folded inward. He looked younger than sixteen.
Marcus sat on the wet concrete instead.
For a moment, nobody spoke.
Cars passed above them. Water dripped from the bridge in slow, uneven beats.
Caleb rubbed his hands together. “He left.”
“Your dad?” Rachel asked.
Caleb nodded.
“When?” Marcus said.
“Three days ago. My mom kept saying he was working nights.”
Marcus looked toward the river. “Why’d he leave?”
Caleb’s mouth twisted. “Why do people always ask that like the answer changes where they went?”
Marcus had no response.
Rachel sat beside him, careful with her dress.
Caleb looked at Marcus. “You afraid of needles?”
“Yes.”
The answer came before Marcus could improve it.
Rachel turned toward him.
Caleb studied his face. “Why’d you say you weren’t?”
“Because people were looking.”
“That’s stupid.”
“It was.”
“You always say lying makes fear bigger.”
“I say too many things.”
“You say them to us.”
Marcus wiped rain from his forearm. “I know.”
Caleb pulled his knees closer. “People at school kept showing me the video. I punched Amir.”
Rachel’s head lifted. “Why?”
“He said Coach Marcus was fake.”
“Was he wrong?” Marcus asked.
Caleb looked offended. “I punched him.”
“That doesn’t answer me.”
“He was laughing.”
“So were half the people in the city.”
“He doesn’t know you.”
Marcus picked at a loose thread on his pants. “You don’t know all of me either.”
“You came to find me.”
“So did Rachel.”
“She comes for everybody.”
Rachel gave Marcus a look. “I’m sitting here.”
Caleb stared at the pavement. “Are you firing Devin?”
“He’s suspended.”
“He posted it because he hates you?”
“No. He thought it would help.”
“That’s worse.”
“Sometimes.”
The boy’s phone vibrated. He looked at the screen and did not answer.
“Your mother?” Rachel asked.
He nodded.
“Call her.”
“She’ll yell.”
“She may,” Rachel said. “You frightened her.”
Caleb’s thumb hovered over the screen.
Marcus said, “You can be afraid of the call and still make it.”
Caleb looked at him.
The sentence settled between them, plain and irritatingly applicable.
Marcus looked away.
Caleb called his mother.
They drove him home. Rachel followed in her car while Caleb rode with Marcus. The boy spent most of the trip staring out the window. At a stoplight, he asked whether the video would ruin the gym.
“Maybe,” Marcus said.
Caleb turned. “Really?”
“It could cost us money.”
“How much?”
“A lot.”
“Because you were scared?”
“Because we promised people a certain story about who I am.”
Caleb considered that. “Then tell a different story.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“Adults say that when they don’t like the simple thing.”
Marcus glanced at him. “You’ve had an irritating night.”
Caleb almost smiled.
His mother waited outside their building in slippers and a raincoat. When Caleb stepped from the SUV, she slapped his shoulder once, pulled him into her arms, then slapped his shoulder again while holding him.
Marcus stayed near the vehicle.
Caleb looked back before entering the building.
“You going to do the shot?”
His mother said his name sharply.
May you like
Marcus answered anyway.
“I don’t know.”
