The Guardians

'We saw you,' Ben said.

This is how the conversation turned. Ben swiveling around in the passenger seat to face the coach. And it was 'we.'

'You did?' the coach said. He looked at me, at Carl in the rearview mirror, at the toothpaste stain around Ben's mouth.

'Last Monday. Going into the Thurman house.'

'Monday?'

The coach looked as though he was trying to remember his mother-in-law's middle name or the capital of Bolivia.

'Just over a week ago. Monday night.'

'Okay. Monday night. Why would I be going in there, Ben?'

'Why would you? Why would you?'

The coach continued to look at Ben for a moment, then turned to me. 'What is this?'

'Answer the question,' I said.

'I don't know what you're asking me.'

'Have you been inside the Thurman house at any time in the last week?'

'No. Now you tel me. What the hel is a Thurman house? '

He chuckled at this, and I was sure we'd got everything wrong. The coach's awkwardness had come not from secret knowledge but from us. He had detected a worrying turn in his youngest players and was trying to guess what was wrong. We were acting weird, not him.

'The empty place on Caledonia,' Carl said. 'You don't know about it?'

'Where you guys go to smoke pot or whatever? Yes, I'm aware of it.'

'Have you ever been inside?'

'I just told you.'

'So you haven't?'

'Hold on here. I mean, seriously, what is this shit?'

It was an understandable question. One minute he's on his way home to his wife's spaghetti casserole and the next he's being interrogated by three kids in a car. He had every right to be impatient. But what al of us heard— what dismissed my earlier impression that we'd got everything wrong—was his shit. It was the first time any of us had heard him swear, to pop his seat forward to let the coach out, and so did the coach, who gripped his hands to the back of the headrest, ready to go. Instead, Carl roled his window down. That's when I noticed Randy out front of the Erie Burger.

'Get in,' Carl said.

Randy bent down to see me and the coach in the back. If he was surprised he didn't show it. When Carl leaned forward, Randy lined up to get into the back with us.

'One here, one there,' Carl said.

After a second, Randy got it. He came around the other side so that the coach was sandwiched between us.

Carl drove on, making sure to stay off the main streets. For a while nobody said anything. There wasn't much room in the Ford now, and breathing was something of an issue, particularly in the back seat.

'Okay, so what are we doing?' Randy asked earnestly.

'We're just talking,' Carl said.

'That's not quite true, Randy,' the coach said. 'Your friends want to know if I've had a hand in your music teacher's disappearance.'

Randy shifted around like something was biting his bum. 'No shit?'

'None at al,' the coach said.

'So let's hear it, then,' Ben said. 'What do you know about what happened to Heather?'

'Happened? What has happened to Heather?'

'You seem to know more than that.'

'This isn't about me.'

'No?' the coach said. 'You're the ones who've seen things going on in empty houses. You're driving around with your hockey coach and won't let him go, which is a crime in itself. I'd say it's definitely about you, Benji.'

Benji. That was new too.

'We're just asking some questions,' Ben said, less certain now.

'Okay. Here's an answer.' He reached forward to tap Carl on the shoulder. 'Pul over.'

'Don't think so,' Carl said.

'Give me a break! You hairless nut sacks think you're the fucking Hardy Boys or something?'