I skate off laughing.
The thing about Theo is he'll push that arm past fracture before he admits it's a problem. In another context, I'd call that a liability. In ours, it's useful.
After practice, we dress down. Silas moves differently now — head an inch higher, unhurried. He's waited a long time for this and earned the right to carry it.
"How does it feel?" I ask.
"Like it should have been like this all along."
"Yeah." I close my locker. "Now keep it."
He asks what I'm doing after. I tell him my father has a list, and I'm apparently on call. He grimaces in sympathy. His relationship with his own father is distant enough to qualify as comfortable.
I step out into the rain, jog to my car, and reach into the center console for the burner.
I gave her three hours before she'd crack.
It's been two and a half.
I'm going to the police.
Predictable. I knew she'd go to the authority’s first — it's what people do when they want to feel like they've done something without committing to action. Reporting isn't fighting. It's outsourcing.
I set the phone down and stare through the rain-streaked windshield.
If Cody wakes up, he wakes up to a team already moving on without him, a program quietly shifting beneath his feet, and a girlfriend who's been touched by something she doesn't have the language for yet. Reputation is leverage. Leverage is control. We lose to UCLA on purpose this weekend, and the story writes itself — a team rattled by tragedy, understandable, sympathetic, completely plausible.
Coach Crick can thank himself for handing us the narrative.
I pocket the burner and start the engine.
She'll go to the police, and they'll find nothing.
And then she'll have nowhere left to go except exactly where we want her.
Chapter 6: Adela
Iwalkintoanoffice with a desk full of files. It smells like coffee in here. The lights are harsh because it’s raining hard outside.
“Mrs. Kalkaska,” a man says as he enters through the door. “Coffee?”
My mom and I shake our heads. “No, thank you.”
He sits in his chair and focuses on us. “Alright. Let’s get started. I’m Detective Negan, one of the detectives on Cody Ravenshaw’s case. So, let’s start from the top. Is there anything I should know? And to make it easier for you, Miss. Tell me if you’ve noticed Cody acting suspiciously or if he made new friends, and then we’ll lead up to the night of the incident.”
I nod, inhaling. That’s easy enough. “Cody transferred to UW Seattle for this school year from the University of Puget Sound, where I attend. He was so excited about playing hockey for UW. Apparently, it’s a big deal.” I press my lips together. “We sort of got distant after his transfer. I don’t recall him making any new friends or anything like that. I guess we never really talked about that when we saw each other.”
My mom adds, “They have a lovely group of friends. There are seven of them together. All really good kids.”
“Yeah, we’re close.”
Negan asks, “Did he make friends with anyone from the hockey team?”
I lick my lips, trying to think. “On the night of my birthday––”
“What night is this?”
My mom whispers, “The night he was found.” She taps his desk lightly as if he needs to walk on glass now. The reminder makes me uneasy.
