Chapter 6

“You have the phone?” his mother asks, reaching for his backpack. “You call me when you’re ready to be picked up, you hear? When’s practice usually over, an hour or so? About that? You sure you don’t want me to stay?”

Ryan pulls the bag away from her, wraps his arms around it protectively. “I have the phone,” he says. She starts to fiddle with the straps on the back of his chair and he wheels out of reach. “Mom, I’ve got it. I’m fine.” When she moves towards him, hovering, he raises an arm to ward her off. “How old am I here?” he asks.

She hears the anger in his voice and stops. “I’m sorry.” Folding her arms against the morning chill, she looks around the deserted parking lot and asks, “You want me to go get one of your friends? The coach, maybe? Just let someone know you’re here?”