Chapter 1

“Tyler! Come on!”

I snapped the laptop shut and glanced at the TV, wondered how many people died last night in Texas – it’s a bad habit, up there with reading obituaries. I caught the end of a news report: Dallas Senator, Charlie Grout, talking about the recent spate of classroom shootings. Monday morning good tidings, huh?

“Ty?” I said again, finger poised over the off-button on the TV remote. “Tyler?”

“And teenage runaways,” Grout said. “It’s another huge problem. If we don’t address it it’s only gonna get worse.”

I pressed the off-button.

From the doorway I stared absently into the kitchen at last night’s take-out cartons that Ty had stacked neatly by the trash bin, his glass and cereal bowl up-turned by the sink.

“Ty? Ready?”

“Relax, Dad.”

He was standing behind me, backpack slung across his shoulder, rolling his cell phone between his fingers and staring at his untied shoes.

“You’ll trip over,” I said. His pants hung in the crotch and his hair almost reached his shoulders. “And you should get that cut.”

“Yeah, Dad.”

“Come on, you don’t wanna be late for school.”

***

Weather forecast said rain. On average Dallas sees thirty-seven inches of rain a year. A whole lot more than California. I used to long for rain. Now I long for California.

“Maybe you should’ve brought a coat,” I said as we pulled up at the school gates, joined the line of dads dropping off, one in three (or somethin’ like that) Sunday fathers – the name sucks, like what am I the rest of the God damn week?

“It won’t rain,” I heard Ty say, his head turned in my direction. “Newspapers always get it wrong.”

Ouch. It was a dig, meant for me and one I decided to ignore. Instead I tried to remember being fourteen. If I wasthatindependent,thatlaid back,thatmoody. The only thing I remembered about being fourteen was my dad leaving. Of course I never talked about that. I never talked a whole lot to anyone about that, not even Joanne and we were married seventeen years.

“I’m sorry about the weekend,” I said, eyes shifting back to Ty, as he un-clicked his seat belt. “There was no one else who could go, you know that, right?”

He shrugged again.

“We’ll do something fun on our next weekend, okay? Maybe go up the railway or Nash Farm.”

“Sure, Dad.”

Of course I knew what he was thinking; that he was too old for Nash Farm and petting goats. He used to love that. I waited for him to open the door but he hesitated. “I know your work’s important,” he said. “Mom might not get it but I do. Okay?”

Hell, he knew more than I gave him credit for – bright kid. And at leasthestill thought I was good at my job. I saw his hands moving, the flash of silver as he turned his cell phone over between his fingers.

“She still never called, huh?”

His cheeks flushed. Now I didn’t know if Ty had a girlfriend – he never talked about that stuff but from his expression I’d hit a nerve.

“I don’t ask you per