By noon, the media was all over the story.

Buck’s family was arrested. None were charged with murder. I don’t know what the charge is for hiding your own son’s body to protect your other son from prosecution. Whatever that was, that’s what the parents were both charged with. A search of the house found steroids and other banned substances in Randy’s room. I don’t know what charges were filed against him, but it sounded like a lot of them.

I only knew that it was over for me. Except, of course, it wasn’t.

Not even close.

• • •

A week later, Uncle Myron and I went to Buck’s funeral.

When we got back to the house, we sat in the kitchen.

We didn’t say a word for a very long time. We just sat in our dark suits and stared into space. Buck was dead. I couldn’t believe it. The finality of it was something I still couldn’t comprehend.

“So young,” Uncle Myron said with a shake of his head. “I know you’ve heard this before, Mickey, but you always have to be careful. Life can be so fragile.”

We sat in silence again. I loosened my tie. Time passed. I can’t say how much.

“I know it seems irrelevant now,” Myron said. “But do you know what you’re going to do about Troy and the basketball team?”

I nodded. “No choice really.”

He just waited.

“I’m going to tell Coach Grady the truth.”

“The truth will get you thrown off the team,” Myron said.

“Too bad,” I said.

“It’s not the end of the world.”

In light of what we had just seen, I knew that was true. But it still hurt.

“There will be next season,” Myron said.

I couldn’t imagine it right now, but maybe he was right. Or we could move. Mom might be better again. But I couldn’t let Troy get away with it. Every basket we’d make would feel tainted. There would be no joy. That was the problem with doing the wrong thing for whatever reasons.

It never feels right.

Uncle Myron opened the fridge and sighed.

“What?”

“We’re out of Yoo-hoo.”

Myron drank this chocolate soda called Yoo-hoo nonstop. “There’s more in the basement,” I said. “You want me to get it?”

“No, I’ll do it.”

He started down the stairs. I was alone. I walked over to the sink. The room was silent. Silent, I thought, as a tomb.

Maybe that was it.

I started thinking now about silence. More specifically, I started to think how silent this kitchen was at this very moment. I looked over at our refrigerator. I started thinking about how Bat Lady’s refrigerator was so noisy. I leaned closer toward the sink. Through the pipes, I could hear Myron whistling some old song. So maybe that was it.