Carson felt the weight of that settle on his shoulders. Robbie was scared. And he was asking them to keep a secret that might be important. That might be dangerous.
“Robbie—” Carson started.
“Promise me.” Robbie interrupted, his voice strident. “Both of you. Shit, Carson… your dad is the sheriff. Promise you won't say anything.”
Ben looked at Carson, uncertainty written all over his face. Carson felt torn. On the one hand, Robbie was his friend, and friends kept their promises. On the other hand, what if this was something bad? What if someone got hurt because they stayed quiet?
“Robbie, if someone's doing something dangerous—” Carson tried again.
“We don't know that,” Robbie said. “We don't know anything for sure. Maybe it really was just supplements. Maybe I'm making a big deal out of nothing.”
Carson could see the desperation in Robbie's eyes. He wanted to believe it was nothing. Wanted to believe he hadn't witnessed something he'd regret not reporting.
“Promise,” Robbie said again. “Please.”
Carson exchanged another look with Ben. Reluctantly, he nodded. “Okay. I promise.”
“Me too,” Ben said quietly.
Robbie's shoulders sagged with relief. “Thanks, guys. Seriously. I just needed to tell someone, you know? Needed to get it off my chest.”
“Yeah,” Carson said. But the weight hadn't left his shoulders. If anything, it felt heavier now.
Practice resumed, and Carson tried to focus on batting drills. But his mind kept circling back to what Robbie had told them. Supplements. A man in a hoodie. Promises of improved performance and championships. Keep your mouth shut.
Carson thought about Jack. His brother was coming home tomorrow and would be a detective. His mom also said he would be their assistant coach. Jack and his dad always told Carson that if something didn't feel right, it probably wasn't. That Carson should trust his gut and come to him if he ever needed help.
But Carson had made a promise to Robbie. And breaking promises wasn't something he took lightly.
That night at dinner, Carson was quiet. His mom asked if everything was okay, and he just nodded and said practice had been tough. His dad looked at him a little closer, like he could sense something was off, but he didn't push.
Later, lying in bed, Carson stared at the ceiling and tried to figure out what to do.
Carson thought about the wrestler Robbie had described. Some kid on the varsity team who was probably just trying to get stronger, trying to earn a scholarship, trying to make his family proud. What if he was taking something that could hurt him because some guy in a hoodie had told him it was safe?
Carson's stomach churned. He rolled over and grabbed his phone, pulling up Jack’s contact information. He was still in Norfolk, but would be coming home tomorrow. His fingers hovered over the keyboard. I need to talk to you about something.
But he didn't send it. Because sending it would mean breaking his promise to Robbie. And Carson didn't know if he could do that. He deleted the text and set his phone down.
Tomorrow, he told himself. Tomorrow, he'd figure out what to do. Maybe Robbie was right, and it was nothing. Maybe the pills really were just vitamins, and he was worrying over nothing.
But as he finally drifted off to sleep, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was very wrong. And that by staying quiet, he might be making the biggest mistake of his life.
13
Rachel looked up as the last period of the day’s wave of ninth graders flooded in. Loud, restless, and buzzing from the end of the week almost at hand. At fourteen, they were all energy and noise and barely contained chaos.
“Alright, alright, settle down,” Rachel called, clapping her hands twice. “Find your seats.”
Robbie Thompson slid into his chair, already leaning over to whisper something to Ben that made Ben snort. Mike followed close, backpack half unzipped, still chewing on something he definitely shouldn't have in class. Carson walked in quietly, nodding toward Rachel as he took his seat near the window. He was like that. Observant. Thoughtful. A little quieter than the other boys his age, but sharp in ways that surprised people. So much like his father. He might look like Jack had at that age, but he was more reserved than her fun-loving, teenage Jack had been.
Her Jack. It had been years since he’d been hers. And that thought caused a sigh to slip out before she could hold it back. It was on the tip of her tongue to ask if Jack was coming home this week, but she caught herself. If Jack wanted me to know when he was returning, he would have told me. She pushed those thoughts down, turning her attention to smile at the students still entering.
The girls filtered in after them. Jules grabbed her usual spot in the front row, pulling out a worn notebook covered in doodles. Caroline dropped into the seat beside her, immediately flipping through her phone before Rachel shot her a look, and she put her phone back into her purse. Nicole settled in near the back, tucking a strand of dark hair behind her ear and pulling out a pen.
Rachel waited until the rest of the students settled, then leaned against the edge of her desk, arms crossed, letting the silence stretch just long enough to get their attention.
“Okay,” she said. “Today we're going to talk about poetry.”
