I turned around and walked out.
Sam was already in the passenger seat when I got to the car. He had his hood up and his arms crossed and he was staring straight ahead through the windshield. I got in and slammed the door and started the engine and didn’t put it in drive.
“How long?” I said.
He didn’t answer.
“Sam. How long?”
“Since the beginning of October.”
“Six weeks.” I gripped the steering wheel. “Six weeks you’ve been lying to me. Every single day. Coach nearly killed us with drills. Jordan crashed into the boards. Was any of that true?”
“Jordan really did crash into the boards,” he said quietly. “He told me about it.”
I laughed. It wasn’t a laugh. I put the car in drive and pulled out of the parking lot too fast and a man pushing a stroller jumped back onto the curb and glared at me.
