thoughts a jumbled mess of fear, sadness, and disbelief.
Chapter 10
C hase Whipple’s mother was also a lawyer. His father sold computers and had installed the system at the Boone law firm. The families were good friends, and at some point during the afternoon, the mothers decided that the boys needed some diversion. Perhaps everyone needed something else to think about.
For as long as Theo could remember, his parents had held season tickets for all home basketball and football games at Stratten College, a small, liberal arts, Division III school, eight blocks from downtown. They bought the tickets for several reasons: one, to support the local team; two, to actually watch a few games, though Mrs. Boone disliked football and could pass on basketball; and, three, to satisfy the college’s athletic director, a feisty man known to call fans himself and badger them into supporting the teams. Such was life in a small town. If the Boones couldn’t make a game, the tickets were usually given to clients. It was good business.
The Boones met the Whipples at the ticket window outside Memorial Hall, a 1920s-style gymnasium in the center of the campus. They hurried inside and found their seats—mid-court and ten rows up. The game was three minutes old and the Stratten student section had already reached full volume. Theo sat next to Chase, at the end of the row. Both mothers kept looking at the boys, as if they needed some type of special observation on this awful day.
Chase, like Theo, enjoyed sports, but was more of a spectator than an athlete. Chase was a mad scientist, a genius in certain fields; a violent experimental chemist who’d burned down the family’s storage shed with one project and nearly vaporized the family’s garage with another. His experiments were legendary and every science teacher at Strattenburg Middle School kept a close eye on him. When Chase was in the lab, nothing was safe. He was also a computer whiz, a techno-geek, a superb hacker, which had also caused some problems.
“What’s the line?” Theo whispered to Chase.
“Stratten’s favored by eight.”
“Says who?”
“Greensheet.” Division III basketball games were not favored by gamblers and oddsmakers, but there were a few offshore websites where one could find a line and place a bet. Theo and Chase did not gamble, nor did anyone they knew, but it was always interesting to know which team was favored.
“I hear you guys were down at the river when they found the body,” Chase said, careful not to be heard by anyone around them.
“Who told you?”
“Woody. He told me everything.”
“We didn’t see a body, okay. We saw something, but it was pretty far away.”
“I guess it had to be the body, right? I mean, the police found a body in the river, and you guys watched it all.”
“Let’s talk about something else, Chase. Okay?”
Chase had shown little interest in girls so far, and even less interest in April. And she had certainly shown no interest in him. Other than Theo, April didn’t care for boys.
There was a time-out on the court, and the Stratten cheerleaders came tumbling out of the stands, hopping and bouncing and flinging each other through the air. Theo and Chase grew still and watched closely. For two thirteen-year-olds, the brief performances by the cheerleaders were captivating.
When the time-out ended, the teams took the court and the game resumed. Mrs. Boone turned and looked down at the boys. Then Mrs. Whipple did the same.
“Why do they keep looking at us?” Theo mumbled to Chase.
“Because they’re worried about us. That’s why we’re here, Theo. That’s why we’re going out for pizza after the game. They think we’re real fragile right now because some thug who escaped from prison snatched one of our classmates and threw her in the river. My mom said that all parents are sort of protective right now.”
The Stratten point guard, who was well under six feet tall, slam-dunked the ball and the
Chapter 10
C hase Whipple’s mother was also a lawyer. His father sold computers and had installed the system at the Boone law firm. The families were good friends, and at some point during the afternoon, the mothers decided that the boys needed some diversion. Perhaps everyone needed something else to think about.
For as long as Theo could remember, his parents had held season tickets for all home basketball and football games at Stratten College, a small, liberal arts, Division III school, eight blocks from downtown. They bought the tickets for several reasons: one, to support the local team; two, to actually watch a few games, though Mrs. Boone disliked football and could pass on basketball; and, three, to satisfy the college’s athletic director, a feisty man known to call fans himself and badger them into supporting the teams. Such was life in a small town. If the Boones couldn’t make a game, the tickets were usually given to clients. It was good business.
The Boones met the Whipples at the ticket window outside Memorial Hall, a 1920s-style gymnasium in the center of the campus. They hurried inside and found their seats—mid-court and ten rows up. The game was three minutes old and the Stratten student section had already reached full volume. Theo sat next to Chase, at the end of the row. Both mothers kept looking at the boys, as if they needed some type of special observation on this awful day.
Chase, like Theo, enjoyed sports, but was more of a spectator than an athlete. Chase was a mad scientist, a genius in certain fields; a violent experimental chemist who’d burned down the family’s storage shed with one project and nearly vaporized the family’s garage with another. His experiments were legendary and every science teacher at Strattenburg Middle School kept a close eye on him. When Chase was in the lab, nothing was safe. He was also a computer whiz, a techno-geek, a superb hacker, which had also caused some problems.
“What’s the line?” Theo whispered to Chase.
“Stratten’s favored by eight.”
“Says who?”
“Greensheet.” Division III basketball games were not favored by gamblers and oddsmakers, but there were a few offshore websites where one could find a line and place a bet. Theo and Chase did not gamble, nor did anyone they knew, but it was always interesting to know which team was favored.
“I hear you guys were down at the river when they found the body,” Chase said, careful not to be heard by anyone around them.
“Who told you?”
“Woody. He told me everything.”
“We didn’t see a body, okay. We saw something, but it was pretty far away.”
“I guess it had to be the body, right? I mean, the police found a body in the river, and you guys watched it all.”
“Let’s talk about something else, Chase. Okay?”
Chase had shown little interest in girls so far, and even less interest in April. And she had certainly shown no interest in him. Other than Theo, April didn’t care for boys.
There was a time-out on the court, and the Stratten cheerleaders came tumbling out of the stands, hopping and bouncing and flinging each other through the air. Theo and Chase grew still and watched closely. For two thirteen-year-olds, the brief performances by the cheerleaders were captivating.
When the time-out ended, the teams took the court and the game resumed. Mrs. Boone turned and looked down at the boys. Then Mrs. Whipple did the same.
“Why do they keep looking at us?” Theo mumbled to Chase.
“Because they’re worried about us. That’s why we’re here, Theo. That’s why we’re going out for pizza after the game. They think we’re real fragile right now because some thug who escaped from prison snatched one of our classmates and threw her in the river. My mom said that all parents are sort of protective right now.”
The Stratten point guard, who was well under six feet tall, slam-dunked the ball and the
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