I thought this was the time to do it. Robert had died hard, no matter what the government said, and standing there, I felt the same emotions that had driven Jason to enlist and take action. My father said once it was a stupid war for stupid reasons, but he’d been drunk at the time and had never said anything like it since, so I thought maybe Jason was right to fight and kill and get even.

I stared into the quarry, a hole in the world still filled with the darkness of night. At my feet, the stone was sunrise red, but only as far down as a tall man could reach. Beyond that was the blackness, like there was no water at all, and maybe I would fall forever. Stripping off my shirt and shoes, I pictured Robert’s perfect dive, the way he’d hung and fallen and risen beside me, laughing. Let the Vietcong touch that, he’d said; but they’d killed him, anyway. I thought of Jason, who’d made the dive, too, but wanted nothing to do with me. For a long time I stared into the pit.

“Just dive,” I said, but did not.

I wasn’t like my brothers.

I was afraid.

Later that day, I was in my room when Chance walked in. “Dude, what the hell?”

I looked up from the book I’d been reading. “Is there a problem?”

“Batting cage. Duh.”

“Oh, man.” I closed the book, and got up off the bed. “I’m sorry, Chance. I totally forgot.”

“Ahh…” He waved a hand, and his features softened. “Don’t sweat it.”

But I did. Chance loved baseball with a passion. He wasn’t very good at it, but Saturday at the cages was ritual.

“You sick or something? Hungover?” He said it with a glint. I shook my head. “So let’s take a walk. Maybe the twins are out.”

He meant the Harrison girls down the street. Seventeen. Seriously cute. “I’m kind of waiting for my dad. How about some TV instead?”

“Yeah, sure. Whatever.”

We stretched on the floor and watched Star Trek reruns. Once, I went downstairs to see if my father had returned. “Bring beer,” Chance said, but was joking, sort of. In late afternoon, we did go outside, but the Harrison girls were nowhere to be seen.

“You have plenty of time,” Chance said.

“What?”

“You keep looking at your watch.”

Guiltily, I looked down at my wrist. I didn’t remember checking the time, but I didn’t remember leaving the yard, either. “I just want to see my dad.”

“I know better than that.” The same grin twisted Chance’s face, so I stopped beside a telephone pole that smelled like creosote and hot wood. “Becky Collins,” he said.

“What about her?”

“Yeah, right.”

“No. Seriously. What?”

Chance squared up on me, disbelieving. “You forgot your date with Becky Collins?”

“That’s today?”