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I hold up a hand. “You want some help with your shot? Pass me the ball.”

Uncertainty flashes across his face before he finally passes it to me. I palm it, pretending to study it for a second.

What I’m about to do gives me pause. I bounce the ball a few times while I remind myself I’m not generally a violent man. Then I remember this kid’s carelessness could’ve harmed Ella.

“Okay, here’s what you need to do. You watching?”

“Yeah, man. Sure.”

I pretend to line up the shot, then I pivot and fire the thing right past his head.

His hard flinch almost puts him on the pavement. “What the fuck, dude?”

“Okay, here’s the deal. I’m going to ask you some questions. Lie to me, and the next one will be at your head.”

“Fuck you, man. How would you even know if I lie?”

“I’ll know.” Maybe. Or I’ll just assume he’s lying because I did it all the time at his age.

Lied to my teachers about my home life.

Lied to my father about where I was going pretty much always.

Lied to Billie when I said I knew what I was doing the first time we had sex.

How my pants never caught fire I’ll never know.

“You can’t fucking threaten me. I-I’ll get my parents. Fuck that.” He pulls out his phone. “I’ll call the fucking police.”

I’m damn proud of myself for anticipating this. “Call them. We can all have a conversation about how come your little sister brought your illegal pills to her elementary school.”

“What? I don’t know what you’re talking about.” But there’s fear in his eyes. There’s a little quirk on one side of his mouth. I watched a documentary once about mothers who killed their kids. It was fucking horrible, kind of like rubbernecking at a car crash. Every time those women lied about what had happened, there was a hint of a smile on their faces. Like this kid is doing now.

Might be pleased with myself if I weren’t so intent on making this idiot sorry.

“You know what I’m betting?” Good thing my old man can’t hear me now. “I’m betting you have a stash somewhere in your house. Probably not hidden as well as you think. Kids are awfully curious at your sister’s age, you know?”

Whenever my dad was flush with money, he was shit at hiding it. Which was the only way I ever fed myself. I’d hoard a few bucks when he won, and that would get me through the times when there was no food in the house. That, and the kindness of my coach and guidance counselor, who kept snacks in her office.

Truth is, I don’t know this wannabe dealer’s story. If I did, I might actually have sympathy for whatever his reasons are. But I can’t worry about that when I’ve got other responsibilities.

“I don’t…” Kirk trails off with a vague shake of his head. Guess it works in my favor that this asshole lies worse than Ella when she’s trying to tell me she already brushed her teeth.

“Your sister brought an entire fucking baggie of those things to school, man. Heard she thought they were candy. What if she’d given them out to friends instead of dropping the baggie in a girl’s bathroom? I know you know about it, because the school would’ve sent a notice out. Maybe they even questioned your sister and she lied to cover for you. Tell me I’m wrong.”

Kirk swallows hard. “I-I can’t…”

“I get it. You can’t tell me, because if you did, you’d probably go to jail, and I’m not sure what kind of punishment you get for letting elementary school kids get their hands on a controlled substance, but it’s probably bad.”

Now I’m curious. I pull out my phone. “We should look it up, right?”

“Dude, just tell me what you want.” He’s dropped his voice to a heated whisper, his head swiveling back and forth like he’s trying to make sure nobody’s around us.

“I want to know where you got them.”

“I can’t tell you that. I’d get in worse trouble than anything you could throw at me.”

“Would it be worth it if your sister had taken one of those things? Or my daughter? She and her friend found them. Because I don’t know about your parents, but I can promise you right now you’d have gotten a lot worse than a ball barely missing your head if my little girl had gotten hurt thanks to your stupidity.”