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Coach clapped his hands again as the batter fouled off the first pitch. “Did you see that changeup?” he asked me enthusiastically before looking back to the mound. “Two more, Tom!”

I leaned closer to Cameron so Coach wouldn’t hear. “How is he getting it? Who’s buying it for him?”

The ball made a loud thwack as it hit Ben’s glove. “Strike!” the ump yelled.

“I dunno.” Cameron spat out another sunflower seed. “But I heard him talking to Brett during our pregame warmups about how much he hates it here. Then he started going on and on about how much of a loser his dad is. And he started talking about Erin again…”

Double shit.

Ben’s dad was the one ghost he couldn’t shake after Erin broke his heart, so I didn’t let him out of my sight for months. I knew if I did, he’d spiral. And now he was.

And it was all my fault.

Tom set up slowly for the third pitch, brought up his knee, and released.

Zip.

Drop.

Swing.

“Strike three!” the ump’s voice boomed. “You’re out!”

The dugout emptied, but I still held strong to Cameron’s arm. “Keep an eye on him, okay? Make sure Brett does too.” My heart raced. And not from the win.

“That’s the other thing. Brett says he rarely comes there anymore. It’s like he’s totally checked out.” He frowned before I let him go and walked to the mound, where the others were jumping up and down in a trance.

“Totally checked out”?

Fuck, this was bad.

This was really, really bad.

My head buzzed with so many questions and fears that the announcer’s voice sounded muddied and garbled. “And the Fulton Hawks beat the Middletown Pistons 6–4! They’re heading to the Legion League Championship!”

I had eyes on Ben as we lined up and shook hands with the Pistons.

And during our post-game team meeting behind the dugout.

But I lost him when Granddad and Nana pulled me aside in the parking lot to congratulate me.

My texts went unanswered.

My calls to him went straight to voicemail.

I’d be damned if I’d let him hit rock bottom again.

So the boys and I got together and decided to split up and search the town, with me taking the northern side to search the library, the Methodist church, the gas station, and the Lyric.

Chapter Thirty-One

Eliza

“The good die young but not always. The wicked prevail but not consistently. I am confused by life, and I feel safe within the confines of the theater.”

—Helen Hayes

Ever since Reed walked away from the treehouse, I filled my every spare moment with working at the Lyric. If I buried myself in my cues, busied myself with helping Cara and some of the others with finishing touches on the sets and costumes, I could convince myself it didn’t hurt as much.