LITMIR.BIZ

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so they were having more of an early lunch than a late breakfast. But missing breakfast wasn’t anything unusual when they stayed with Russ. This Sunday morning had gone pretty much like all the others—except that Kenny had dragged himself out of bed the moment Brent had gotten up to watch cartoons. Kenny hadn’t intervened when his little brother helped himself to a candy bar first thing, but no way was he going to allow Brent to get hold of another porn video.

      Brent pushed his potatoes around on his plate. “I’m stuffed,” he complained. “I can’t eat another bite.”

      Looking immediately to their father, who’d recently started growing a goatee to compensate for his thinning hair, Kenny said, “He’s done. Can we go?”

      Russ hooked an arm over the back of the booth and waved for the waitress to come round with the coffee. “Of course not. Coach Blaine hasn’t arrived yet.”

      Kenny wasn’t sure if Blaine would show. Kenny couldn’t see a man like him having much to do with Russ, even if they both wanted to see Gabe Holbrook give up the job he’d just taken.

      “He should’ve been here half an hour ago,” Kenny said. “Something must’ve come up.”

      “We’re in no hurry. We can wait.”

      His father was never in any hurry. But Kenny didn’t want to wait. He didn’t really want to see Blaine. Growing anxious, he started bouncing his knee.

      His father scowled at the movement. “Jeez you’ve got a lot of energy. Has your mother ever had you tested for ADHD?”

      Russ had only recently learned of ADHD—and instantly decided he had it. He saw symptoms in everyone else, too, and was quick to suggest medication. Left to him, more than half the town would be on Ritalin.

      “I don’t have ADHD, Dad.”

      “Coulda fooled me.” He added cream to his coffee. “You fidget more than Brent does.”

      That was an exaggeration if Kenny had ever heard one. Brent was pouring sugar onto the table right now. His father had to take the sugar dispenser away from him in order to sweeten his coffee, but he handed it back as soon as he was done. Russ let Brent do just about anything.

      “Don’t you care that he’s making a mess?” Kenny asked, irritated that his father didn’t act more like…well, a father.

      Russ shrugged. “I don’t have to clean it up.”

      “Someone does.”

      His father grimaced. “You’re sounding more like your mother every day, you know that?”

      Russ accused him of that a lot, probably because Kenny couldn’t come up with a good answer.

      “Anyway, he probably has ADHD, too,” his father said, jerking his head toward Brent.

      Ignoring them both, Brent squeezed ketchup all over the sugar volcano he was building on the table. The mess bugged Kenny enough that he would have stopped his brother, but after what his father had said, he couldn’t—not without sounding more like Hannah than ever. “He doesn’t have ADHD, Dad. People with ADHD have trouble focusing.”

      “I know,” his father replied, nodding emphatically. “I’ve been struggling with it since I was a kid.”

      Kenny wished he could believe that. But it sounded like another convenient excuse—the latest in a long line of excuses. “Brent focuses fine. And so do I.”

      His father leaned forward. “Then, why don’t you focus on having a cup of coffee and quit bitching at me for a damn minute?”

      Kenny wasn’t particularly sensitive to bad language. He could swear with the best of them. But he didn’t understand why their father had to cuss so much in front of Brent.

      He shot a quick glance at his little brother to see if Brent had marked it, and knew he had when Brent shot him a mischievous grin. “Dad—” Kenny started, but fell silent when Russ’s eyebrows clashed, making a solid slash of brown above his golden eyes.

      “What now?”

      Kenny stared down at his plate. “Never mind.” It wasn’t any use asking Russ to quit with the bad language. His father would only do it more, or say that he and Brent needed to come live with him before their mother turned them into complete pussies.

      The waitress came around, but Kenny refused coffee. While she filled his father’s cup, he glanced at the other tables, and froze when he spotted Josh and Rebecca Hill seated in the far corner with Booker and Katie Robinson. Like his brother Mike, Josh was a good friend of Gabe Holbrook’s, and Booker owned the only automotive repair shop in town, so he probably serviced Gabe’s truck. Which meant, if Coach Blaine showed up and Kenny sat talking with him for any length of time, Coach Holbrook would probably hear about it. Because his father and Blaine acted as though they had some problem with Holbrook, Kenny didn’t want that. His mother had told him to give Holbrook his loyalty and, despite his worries about getting to play, he wanted to. Maybe Hannah had put Gabe Holbrook in a wheelchair, but the coach was still a man who could command respect regardless of what the accident had cost him.

      Keeping his eye on the clock, Kenny forced himself to sit still for another five minutes. Then he appealed to his father once again. “Blaine’s late, Dad. I don’t think he’s coming. Can we go? Please?”

      His father glared at him. Then, muttering, “I’ll bet my ass you do have ADHD,” he finally tossed twenty bucks on the table.

      Briefly, Kenny wondered how his father had twenty bucks for breakfast when he couldn’t pay his child support this month—he’d heard his parents arguing over it just last week. But he didn’t want to think about any of the stuff that made him angry. He’d learned early on when it came to his father he had only two choices—he could cut Russ out of his life, or he could put up with him. There was no other alternative, and therefore no way to win. It was important to take his father moment by moment.

      At least they were leaving the diner now. At least Kenny wouldn’t have to face Coach Holbrook at practice on Monday knowing—

      “Sorry I’m late.” Coach Blaine loomed over them before they could even stand all the way.

      Swallowing a groan, Kenny flopped back into his seat. Russ did the same as Blaine slid into the booth next to him, wearing a muscle shirt and a pair of jogging shorts. Although Blaine was probably in his fifties, he was a stickler for physical fitness. Today he was sweating badly enough that Kenny knew he hadn’t been late for any reason other than a morning jog. Obviously Blaine didn’t think this meeting was important.

      “I’m glad you could come, Coach,” Russ said eagerly.

      Blaine waved for the waitress to bring him coffee. “What’d you want to talk to me about?”

      Russ blinked as if surprised by the question. “I’m concerned, of course. Aren’t you?”

      “About what?”

      Most folks in town didn’t take his father too seriously. Blaine was clearly one of them.

      “What do you think?” Russ replied. “The recent changes at the high school. I mean, you’ve given that team thirty years of your life. You can’t tell me you’re happy to be overlooked now that Coach Hill has passed on.”

      A tightening around Blaine’s lips proved that he wasn’t happy about it at all. “They say it’s only for one year.”

      “Well, if I know Gabe, he’ll decide to stay. What else is he gonna do now that he’s in that chair? And, if he does decide to stay, who in this town is gonna tell him no?”

      Wiping away the perspiration rolling from his temple, Blaine attempted a shrug, but it didn’t come off as casual as he’d probably intended. “He won’t stay.”

      “How do you know?” Kenny was unable to hold the question back.

      Blaine seemed in no hurry to answer. The waitress

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