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  Josh saw Zamboni looking, too, and the hateful glare he cast upon Josh’s dad. Josh looked away, pretending to be interested in a blue parrot tattoo wrapped around the waitress’s calf as she presented the check to the table across the aisle. When the waitress collected her money, it made Josh think of something Diane had said that he’d been meaning to ask his father about. It would be a good distraction from their giggling anyway.

  “Dad,” Josh said, “what kind of business do you have going on down in New York City?”

  Josh’s dad and Diane smiled at each other. His dad sat up a bit straighter, cleared his throat, and said, “Some potential financial deals, with a bank, maybe.”

  “Financial deals?” Josh asked.

  “It’s complicated,” his dad said, glancing at Diane, who looked up at him with worship in her eyes. “Sometimes, when you have a contract like my Nike deal, investment banks will do what they call a ‘monetization.’”

  Josh couldn’t help looking confused.

  “They basically assign a value to your contract and give you the money up front,” Josh’s dad said. “It’s kind of complicated.”

  “Yeah, that’s what you said,” Josh said, scratching the back of his neck.

  “Having all the money up front allows you to borrow even more and do deals that make you real money, big money,” his father said.

  “What do the banks get out of it?” Josh asked.

  “Well, you pay them a premium for giving you the money up front. They have to wait to collect the money from the contract, but they get some extra. Not too much, but that’s what banks do. This is how people create wealth, Josh. It’s a different mind-set than most of the people you’ve been exposed to have.”

  His father’s voice oozed with excitement. “Most people just try to get by, make enough money to pay the bills like I was doing. To create wealth, you have to monetize and you have to leverage. Trust me, when I buy you one of those new Camaros for your sixteenth birthday, you’ll thank me.”

  When Josh’s dad and Diane smiled at each other, Josh leaned toward Zamboni and in a whisper said, “Hear that, Zamboni? A Camaro? What’ll you drive? A Hyundai?”

  Before Josh could say anything else, Zamboni—who sat on the inside of the booth next to Josh—scooted himself over so that his butt was halfway onto Josh’s leg before he squeaked out a fart. Josh squirmed away, scowling. Zamboni acted as if nothing had happened, but after another minute, he scooted closer again.

  “Hey,” Josh said, turning on Zamboni with a raised fist. “Cut the crap. You want to get out to use the bathroom or something? Just ask.”

  Zamboni gave Josh a look of surprise, as if he had no idea what had happened.

  “Josh!” his dad said. “What’s wrong with you?”

  “This creep’s scooting his butt over on my leg and farting is what,” Josh said, springing out of his seat and shoving Zamboni, who fell back more than he had to and bumped his head into the wall.

  “Real nice,” Diane said in a mutter Josh could barely hear.

  “Here,” Zamboni said, rubbing the back of his head and patting the seat, “there’s plenty of room. I didn’t mean to crowd you. There’s something sticky on the seat over here is all.”

  Josh’s dad’s face went red. He stood up and said, “Let’s go.”

  “Dad,” Josh said, but his father slapped thirty dollars onto the table and started to walk out.

  Diane murmured something soothing into his father’s ear and Zamboni slouched along behind. When he hit the parking lot, Josh thought about running. But the thing about him running away was that either his father would catch him or, worse, he might not even try. Josh climbed into the backseat and hung his head. He didn’t look up until they pulled in front of his house. Diane got out and tilted the seat forward so he could leave.

  “See you,” Josh said in Zamboni’s direction with a half wave.

  Josh got out and retrieved his bags from the trunk. He stood next to Diane at the curb, weighed down by his things. His father’s car stood in the driveway, so Josh looked expectantly at his dad, thinking they’d finally have a chance to be alone together.

  “Great job in Albany, Josh,” Zamboni said in a cheerful tone Josh knew was meant to impress the adults.

  “Uh, thanks,” Josh said, glancing at Zamboni before his eyes returned to his dad, who only stared out toward the end of the street. “You, too.”

  “That’s better,” Diane said, patting Josh on the head as if he were three years old. “We should all get along, don’t you think?”

  Josh couldn’t help squirming out of her reach and retreating to the sidewalk before he turned and said, “Dad? You coming?”

  Without looking at him, Josh’s father said, “You go. Your mom will want to see you. We’ll talk.”

  Diane climbed in and flickered her fingers at Josh. The car pulled away. Josh watched them go, shielding his eyes from the sun. Zamboni spun around in the backseat, made a stupid face, and thumbed his nose at Josh.

  Shaking his head, Josh trudged up the driveway under the weight of his duffel and bat bags. He set the bat bag down in a corner of the garage, wondering what it meant that his father left the silver Taurus there. Without the car, his dad had no way to get to work. Josh crossed the driveway to the kitchen door on the side of the house. The metal frame of the broken screen door screeched as he opened it, and the wooden door leading inside groaned.

  Josh dumped the duffel bag on the floor and shouted, “I’m home!”

  He entered the kitchen to see his mom sitting in the corner at the table. Her eyes were puffy and red, but when she saw Josh, she jumped up and smoothed her dress and headed for the sink.

  “Sit down,” she said, her back to him and her hands busy with the clatter of dishes in the sink. “I’ll fix you something.”

  “We had pizza on the way,” Josh said, looking around for a sign of his little sister. “Mom? What’s wrong?”

  His mother stiffened.

  “He didn’t tell you, did he?” his mom asked, her hands gripping the edge of the sink.

  “Who didn’t tell me what?” Josh asked.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  “HE’S MOVING IN WITH her,” Josh’s mother said.

  Josh felt for the back of the nearest chair to steady himself.

  “Gran is here to help,” his mom said, her voice unnaturally soft. “She took Laurel to the park. He did pick you up, didn’t he? You didn’t have to walk home?”

  “No,” Josh said, slumping into the seat and feeling sick at the news. “He told me he was getting an apartment.”

  “At least he did one thing he said he would,” she said. “He picked you up.” His mother turned to face him, her hands twisting a dish towel.

  “What’s it mean?” Josh asked.

  His mother’s face crumpled with agony. “It means he’s not coming back. Not ever. He’s with her now.”

  “He took me for ice cream with her,” Josh said, almost to himself.

  “He didn’t even have the guts to tell you.” Bitterness crept into her voice.

  “I hate him.”

  “Josh, you shouldn’t say that.” His mom looked like she’d been hit with a board.

  Josh jumped up out of the chair. He gripped two handfuls of his hair as he sprinted through the living room and bounded up the stairs.

  “I hate him!” Josh screamed, and he slammed his bedroom door shut and locked it.

  The room spun. Josh knocked the books off the top of his dresser, scattering them across the floor along with his two granite bookends. He threw himself on the bed and screamed into his pillow, pressing it around his head to mute the world. He heard his mom knock softly at the bedroom door, but after a while she went away. Josh rolled onto his back to study a crack in a ceiling that sloped with the roofline right down to the head of his bed. When the cell phone in his pocket vibrated, he snapped it open, hoping the text was from his father so he could fire off some nasty response.

  It was
Jaden, asking if he wanted to hang out.

  “No,” he texted back.

  After a few seconds she texted again to ask what was wrong.

  “Everything,” he texted.

  The phone rang and he picked it up. “What do you mean, ‘everything’?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  Jaden huffed into the phone. “Do I have to come over there?”

  “You can do what you want,” Josh said.

  “I always do.” Then she hung up.

  Josh wasn’t quite sure what she’d do, but he wasn’t surprised—and he had to admit he also wasn’t disappointed—when he heard the doorbell ring and then Jaden’s footsteps climbing the stairs. She knocked. He let her in and wandered back to his bed. She sat beside him on its edge and put a hand on his back.

  “I’m sorry,” she said.

  “You don’t even know what this is about.”

  “I saw your mom’s eyes,” she said. “I know.”

  “I hate him,” Josh said, his eyes swimming in tears even as he looked at his friend.

  She nodded but wore an almost hurt expression. “You don’t have to do that, though. Your mom’s not like that.”

  “I hate him for me,” Josh said. “You can’t even imagine what all this feels like, Jaden. It’s like nothing ever hurt before. Even when that jerk threw a beanball at me and cracked my eye socket. I wish I could have that happen ten times over again instead of this. You can’t even imagine it.”

  Jaden looked down at her hands. Her chin slumped to her chest.

  “No, you’re wrong,” she said. “I can’t say exactly, but I can imagine. You forget about my mom. I never saw her, never knew her. When I do something good, or if I wear something pretty, people will say, ‘I bet your mother is so proud,’ and it hurts all over like she just died, every time.”

  “I’m sorry,” Josh said, meaning it.

  “That’s okay,” she said, looking over at him. “But you’ve got to admit that half your dad is better than no dad. Look how many people’s parents are divorced. Look at Benji. Over half the marriages in this country end in divorce. It’s nothing new.”

  “But not having your mom,” Josh said, “that’s got to make you know how bad I want to have my dad since he’s here. Imagine what you’d do if you could get her back. I’m sorry; I didn’t mean it like that.”

  “It’s okay,” Jaden said. “I know what you mean. I’ll help you if I can.”

  She knelt down on the floor and began to pick up the books Josh had knocked off his dresser, scooping them up into the crook of her arm.

  “To have to share him with that total idiot, Zamboni?” Josh said, shaking his head. “I don’t know if I can do it. I really don’t. I hate that kid—and his mom and my dad. It’s like they’re after this one big happy baseball family thing. First she puts me with him instead of Benji to room on the road, then we have this stupid little ice-cream celebration. I swear, I almost vomited today just being with them all in the same place. I mean, literally vomited, not just the expression.”

  “I’m not siding with him or anything,” Jaden said, picking the granite bookends up off the floor and setting the books back up on the dresser. “You know that, right? But think about his deal. He’s got the same thing you do, a mom and dad who are split. I bet he doesn’t like it any more than you do.”

  “Yeah, well my parents weren’t split until that tramp mother of his went after my dad,” Josh said.

  “Well,” Jaden said, sandwiching the books between the hunks of granite to hold them upright, “I’m just saying. For him, it probably seems just as bad.”

  “The guy is a royal pain,” Josh said. “He flicks his boogers around like spitballs. He’s as stupid as his name. Did I tell you he smokes cigarettes when no one’s around? I doubt he’d even be on the team if his mom wasn’t the league secretary. That’s probably why she does it.”

  “When things are bad like this,” Jaden said, turning one of the bookends from the rough rocky surface so that the shiny polished part faced out, “you’ve got to try and look for the bright side. There’s always a bright side. Well, almost always.”

  “Right,” Josh said, “almost always, but not in this case. There is nothing good about this, and nothing good about that woman and her stupid son. Well, unless you count her doctoring the books so Benji could play on the all-star team.”

  “What do you mean?” Jaden asked, wrinkling her forehead.

  Josh told her the story about Benji not being at the game on Memorial Day, but his name being mysteriously logged into the record book, then he said, “So, yeah, I guess she has one redeeming quality—she used her spectacular ability to cheat and lie to get Benji on my team so that I’d go to Albany and she could pull a vampire move on my dad. So I guess you’re right, Jaden. There is a bright side.”

  “You don’t have to sound so bitter, Josh,” Jaden said, removing her hand from the bookend. “I’m just trying to help, but you know, you’re right: this is a bright side.”

  “I was being sarcastic,” Josh said.

  “A person who cheats like that doesn’t do it just once,” Jaden said.

  “I’m sure you’re right about that,” Josh said. “She’s rotten to the core.”

  “And if she is,” Jaden said slowly, “I know how to fix her good.”

  Josh felt his heart pick up its pace at the thought of sinking Diane’s ship. It was almost too good to be true.

  But Josh knew how smart Jaden was, so he asked, “How?”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  “SOMETIMES,” JADEN SAID, “WHEN people first meet, everything seems great, like they can do no wrong. They call it lovesick. Your dad’s lovesick. But, the good news is that once you break that spell, it’s over for good. All it takes is just one cold hard fact, one thing to prove to the lovesick person how wrong they are, and they’re free.”

  “What cold hard fact?” Josh asked.

  “I’m not sure,” Jaden said, “but it’ll be my job to find out.”

  “And you think you could do that for me?” Josh asked. He knew that besides being smart, Jaden’s dream was to one day win a Pulitzer Prize for her writing as an investigative journalist. He’d seen firsthand how talented she was when it came to snooping out information about people, and he had no doubts she’d one day win her prize. Meantime, her investigating skills just might help mend the gaping hole in his life.

  “Who knows?” she said. “I’ll do my best.”

  “I mean,” Josh said, getting excited, “what kind of things do you think she could have done?”

  Jaden shrugged. “Who knows? People lie, they cheat, steal, do drugs.”

  “You think she does drugs?” Josh said hopefully. “My dad would never go for that.”

  “I don’t think anything,” Jaden said. “People do things that are wrong. Usually the ones who do one thing wrong have got a whole closet full of them they keep hidden. That’s human nature. That’s why we have police and judges and jails.”

  “How long will it take you?” Josh asked.

  “It doesn’t happen overnight,” Jaden said.

  “Weeks?”

  “Maybe,” she said. “I’ll do my best.”

  “Because I don’t want him getting too far along with her,” Josh said.

  “They didn’t tell you that they’re getting married or anything?” Jaden said.

  “No,” Josh said. “Not that I know of. How could they? They just met.”

  Jaden looked at him.

  Josh said, “You’re making me nervous.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  JOSH ONLY HAD TWO days before he had to leave with the team for the state finals out on Long Island. He stayed busy getting all his lawns cut and reading a scary book called The Lurker at the Threshold by H. P. Lovecraft. One afternoon he, Jaden, and Benji went to Oneida Shores with Benji’s mom to swim, lie out in the sun, and eat hot dogs cooked on one of the park’s small braziers set in concrete next to the picnic t
ables.

  Josh tried to avoid being home, mainly because he couldn’t stop feeling the emptiness created by his father’s absence. He was beginning to wonder if he’d ever even see his father again when he called Josh the night before the team left for Long Island.

  “How you doing?” his father asked.

  “Fine,” Josh said, searching for words that could capture everything he felt and knowing they didn’t exist.

  “Good,” his father said. “So, I wanted to check to see where your head is at before I extend this business trip down to New York City to include your games.”

  “What do you mean my head?”

  “I mean, are you going to act mature about everything?” his father said. “Or are you going to push Marcus around and make me look like a bad father?”

  Josh wanted to tell his father that he didn’t need anyone’s help to look like a bad father. The words were right on his tongue, but they wouldn’t come out. No matter how mad Josh was, and even with his father miles away, the notion of back-talking his father made Josh move the phone away from his face for a moment. He’d grown up thinking of his father as the giant in the story “Jack and the Beanstalk,” dark and brooding and frighteningly large, with a booming voice.

  “I’m going to act mature,” Josh said softly.

  “So, you want me to see you play?” his father asked. “The Titans don’t have a tournament until the following week and I’ll be down there anyway meeting with the banks, but I’m not going out to Long Island unless you’re on board.”

  “I’m on board.”

  “With everything?” his dad asked. “Diane? Marcus?”

  “Yes, Dad,” Josh said. “I’m on board with everything.”

  When he hung up, Josh texted Jaden, asking her how the investigation was coming. Jaden replied that she didn’t have anything so far. Josh snapped his phone shut and packed for the tournament.

  Downstairs, what was left of his family was waiting for him at the dinner table.

  “Sorry,” Josh said. “I was packing.”