Spark
Page 85
Gabriel felt sure Ryan was going to take the chance to hit him but the guy was going after Simon, who was backing away.
“Hey!” said Gabriel. “You touch him, I’ll break your goddamn arms off.”
Someone hit him in the back of the head, sending stars across his field of vision. Ryan caught up to Simon and gave him a solid shove in the chest, hard enough to knock him to the court.
Simon scrambled backward, but Ryan was leaning down, a hand drawn back, ready to slam a fist into Simon’s face.
Gabriel redoubled his struggles, but he’d never be fast enough.
“Hey!” a new voice yelled from the corner by the bleachers.
An authoritative voice.
The coach’s voice.
The guys holding Gabriel scattered and ran. Ryan tried to follow, but he was under the net, and the coach beat him to it, even while dragging a full mesh bag of balls. Though he wasn’t a big man, Coach Kanner could be plenty intimidating, and Gabriel enjoyed watching Ryan’s face go pale under those bruises.
Until he realized Simon was just as pale, his breathing quick.
“Come on, Coach,” said Ryan. “We were just messing around.”
“You don’t mess around on my court. You’re out of the next two games.”
Ryan’s eyes just about bugged out of his head. “What? But that’s not ”
“Want to make it three?”
“Whatever.” Ryan turned away.
The coach called after him. “Stacey!”
Ryan looked like he was going to keep walking but he must have wanted to stay on the team. He turned. “What?”
The coach raised an eyebrow.
Ryan sighed. “Yes. Sir.”
“See you on the bench at four.”
Ryan stormed through the doors into the locker room, shoving the door behind him to make the sound echo across the court. Gabriel would have mocked the dickhead, but he knew better. He was already on shaky ground with the coach. Instead, he put out a hand to pull Simon to his feet.
The coach looked at the younger boy. “You all right?”
Simon nodded. His face was red, his jaw clenched.
Gabriel felt for him. Simon could play but he couldn’t play, for real, in a game. He was small, and though a few years would probably take care of that, a year was an eternity. Especially a year spent getting your ass kicked.
And all that was on top of not being able to hear.
The coach rubbed at the back of his neck. “I caught some of your playing earlier. You’ve been working hard.”
Simon nodded.
Then the coach gave Gabriel a good-natured shove in the arm. “Unless you’re just getting lazy.”
“Nah.” Gabriel smiled. He’d forgotten how much he missed the easy camaraderie of a sport. Had it really only been a couple weeks? “It’s all him.”
Coach Kanner looked back at Simon. “Think you can play like that this afternoon?”
Simon’s eyebrows went way up. He nodded vigorously.
“We’ll give it a try,” said the coach.
Simon nodded again.
The coach held up a finger. “One time.” Then he slung the bag of balls over his shoulder and turned for his office at the back of the gym.
Simon turned wide eyes to Gabriel. He gestured for the phone.
Holy crap.
For the first time since the weekend, Layne fired up her computer.
She didn’t even bother with her e-mail, rolling her eyes at the bolded number showing how many unread messages she had.
Seriously. Didn’t they have anything better to do?
She couldn’t stop thinking about fire. About arson. About Gabriel.
And her scars.
She’d stared at herself in the bathroom for what must have been a good twenty minutes. At first she’d wanted to yell for her father. She’d wanted someone else to see what she was seeing, to pinch her arm and prove she wasn’t dreaming.
But her father would want explanations, and she sure didn’t have one.
What had happened in that barn?
That night I drove you home was the first night A notebook sat open next to her laptop. She had to think back. The night her father had worked late. The night Gabriel had played basketball with Simon. Wednesday.
Wednesday, she wrote on the paper.
She went to the local news Web site and searched for the word arson.
Bingo. There’d been an article on Thursday about a fire Wednesday night. A family of four, though only three had gotten out. The reporter had interviewed the mother, a Mrs. Hulster, who said that the fire chief had declared the house too dangerous to search, that no one could be alive inside.
Yet somehow a firefighter had been in there. Somehow, her daughter had been pulled out.
Hulster. It sounded familiar.
Alan Hulster! Of course! Taylor had been talking about the fire the next day in class.
Had Gabriel seemed upset? Had he known about it?
Layne tapped her pencil on her paper. She couldn’t remember.
She skipped to the next article. Another fire, another suspected arson. The firefighters had been ordered out, but one fell through the floor. He should have been trapped he should have been killed.
But again, someone dragged him out.
So Wednesday, Thursday . . .
Friday was the night of the party. Layne had been with Gabriel, until late.
No arson.
Saturday. A day full of highs and lows. A day that ended with her father being a jerk in the Merrick driveway.
She scrolled to the next arson article and clicked on the link.
A day that ended with a fire in a townhome community. She’d already seen this article Ryan Stacey had forwarded it to her with mocking comments.
“Hey!” said Gabriel. “You touch him, I’ll break your goddamn arms off.”
Someone hit him in the back of the head, sending stars across his field of vision. Ryan caught up to Simon and gave him a solid shove in the chest, hard enough to knock him to the court.
Simon scrambled backward, but Ryan was leaning down, a hand drawn back, ready to slam a fist into Simon’s face.
Gabriel redoubled his struggles, but he’d never be fast enough.
“Hey!” a new voice yelled from the corner by the bleachers.
An authoritative voice.
The coach’s voice.
The guys holding Gabriel scattered and ran. Ryan tried to follow, but he was under the net, and the coach beat him to it, even while dragging a full mesh bag of balls. Though he wasn’t a big man, Coach Kanner could be plenty intimidating, and Gabriel enjoyed watching Ryan’s face go pale under those bruises.
Until he realized Simon was just as pale, his breathing quick.
“Come on, Coach,” said Ryan. “We were just messing around.”
“You don’t mess around on my court. You’re out of the next two games.”
Ryan’s eyes just about bugged out of his head. “What? But that’s not ”
“Want to make it three?”
“Whatever.” Ryan turned away.
The coach called after him. “Stacey!”
Ryan looked like he was going to keep walking but he must have wanted to stay on the team. He turned. “What?”
The coach raised an eyebrow.
Ryan sighed. “Yes. Sir.”
“See you on the bench at four.”
Ryan stormed through the doors into the locker room, shoving the door behind him to make the sound echo across the court. Gabriel would have mocked the dickhead, but he knew better. He was already on shaky ground with the coach. Instead, he put out a hand to pull Simon to his feet.
The coach looked at the younger boy. “You all right?”
Simon nodded. His face was red, his jaw clenched.
Gabriel felt for him. Simon could play but he couldn’t play, for real, in a game. He was small, and though a few years would probably take care of that, a year was an eternity. Especially a year spent getting your ass kicked.
And all that was on top of not being able to hear.
The coach rubbed at the back of his neck. “I caught some of your playing earlier. You’ve been working hard.”
Simon nodded.
Then the coach gave Gabriel a good-natured shove in the arm. “Unless you’re just getting lazy.”
“Nah.” Gabriel smiled. He’d forgotten how much he missed the easy camaraderie of a sport. Had it really only been a couple weeks? “It’s all him.”
Coach Kanner looked back at Simon. “Think you can play like that this afternoon?”
Simon’s eyebrows went way up. He nodded vigorously.
“We’ll give it a try,” said the coach.
Simon nodded again.
The coach held up a finger. “One time.” Then he slung the bag of balls over his shoulder and turned for his office at the back of the gym.
Simon turned wide eyes to Gabriel. He gestured for the phone.
Holy crap.
For the first time since the weekend, Layne fired up her computer.
She didn’t even bother with her e-mail, rolling her eyes at the bolded number showing how many unread messages she had.
Seriously. Didn’t they have anything better to do?
She couldn’t stop thinking about fire. About arson. About Gabriel.
And her scars.
She’d stared at herself in the bathroom for what must have been a good twenty minutes. At first she’d wanted to yell for her father. She’d wanted someone else to see what she was seeing, to pinch her arm and prove she wasn’t dreaming.
But her father would want explanations, and she sure didn’t have one.
What had happened in that barn?
That night I drove you home was the first night A notebook sat open next to her laptop. She had to think back. The night her father had worked late. The night Gabriel had played basketball with Simon. Wednesday.
Wednesday, she wrote on the paper.
She went to the local news Web site and searched for the word arson.
Bingo. There’d been an article on Thursday about a fire Wednesday night. A family of four, though only three had gotten out. The reporter had interviewed the mother, a Mrs. Hulster, who said that the fire chief had declared the house too dangerous to search, that no one could be alive inside.
Yet somehow a firefighter had been in there. Somehow, her daughter had been pulled out.
Hulster. It sounded familiar.
Alan Hulster! Of course! Taylor had been talking about the fire the next day in class.
Had Gabriel seemed upset? Had he known about it?
Layne tapped her pencil on her paper. She couldn’t remember.
She skipped to the next article. Another fire, another suspected arson. The firefighters had been ordered out, but one fell through the floor. He should have been trapped he should have been killed.
But again, someone dragged him out.
So Wednesday, Thursday . . .
Friday was the night of the party. Layne had been with Gabriel, until late.
No arson.
Saturday. A day full of highs and lows. A day that ended with her father being a jerk in the Merrick driveway.
She scrolled to the next arson article and clicked on the link.
A day that ended with a fire in a townhome community. She’d already seen this article Ryan Stacey had forwarded it to her with mocking comments.
