Murder at the PTA. Lee Hollis

Sandra caught sight of a yellow blur sailing through the air, nailing a reporter from the local NBC affiliate right in the head and exploding, splashing him with water.

      A cameraman from FOX News got it next as a purple balloon shot out of nowhere and blasted him in the chest, soaking him.

      Everyone looked toward the Wallage house and could clearly see two shadowy figures in a second-floor window hurling water bombs down at the reporters.

      There was pandemonium as the news crews rushed to protect their expensive equipment. During the chaos, Sandra, sensing an opportunity, bolted for the house. A few reporters chased after her, but she outran them and managed to get inside and slam the door, double locking it behind her.

      She dropped her bag on a side table and trudged upstairs to find her two sons, Jack and Ryan, in the bathroom reloading by filling balloons with water from the faucet.

      “I suppose as a good mother, I should punish you for scaring those poor reporters outside,” she said, smiling.

      “Okay, how about we only get two helpings of dessert tonight at dinner?” Ryan helpfully suggested.

      “Tough, but fair,” Jack agreed.

      Sandra nodded. “Yes. You need to learn a lesson.”

      She stared at her two handsome sons proudly. Jack was the oldest at sixteen, big and brawny with a high-wattage smile and endless charisma. He was only a junior but already the star quarterback of SoPo High’s football team. He was outgoing, popular, and a decent student. He could’ve been better if he pushed himself more, but because he was so important to his coach and to his team, many of the teachers tended to give him a lot of leeway. Sandra was especially proud that her son was brave enough to tell her he was gay about a year ago. She and Stephen had worried at first that he might have a difficult time at school, but to her relief and surprise, nobody even blinked, and his announcement seemed to just make him even more popular with his peers. Ryan, on the other hand, at fifteen, was more quiet and withdrawn. He was leaner than his athletic brother and a foot shorter. He was a talented artist, sometimes moody and unpredictable, whip-smart, on the honor roll, and could be found most nights writing songs and poetry in his room about his search for true love with the amazing woman he had yet to meet. A true hipster at heart. The brothers couldn’t be more opposite if they tried, and she could safely say she loved them both equally. Stephen adored his sons too, naming them Jack and Ryan because he had always been an avid fan of Tom Clancy novels since college.

      The boys fought a lot, disagreeing on just about everything, but Sandra knew that in a pinch, they would always have each other’s backs. And it touched her that evening that they had banded together in order to protect their mother.

      “Thank you,” Sandra whispered to the boys.

      “No worries. We’re just getting started,” Jack said, grinning, as he ambled out of the bathroom back into his bedroom. He crossed to the window and let loose with a red balloon and waited for it to hit its target.

      The boys suddenly erupted in laughter.

      “Oh man, look at that camera guy running for his truck!”

      Sandra walked over and shut the window. “I think they’ve suffered enough.”

      “What’s for dinner? I’m starving,” Jack said.

      “Turkey meat loaf,” Sandra said. She had made it the previous evening because of her speech and just needed to pop it in the oven to warm it up.

      “Can we eat soon? I have plans later,” Ryan said.

      “On a school night?” Sandra asked incredulously.

      “I’m not going anywhere. I’m just Skyping with someone,” Ryan said.

      “He’s got a new girl,” Jack teased. “You can bet he’s already written a song about her.”

      “Do I know her?” Sandra asked, suddenly curious.

      “No, I don’t think so,” Ryan said, looking away.

      “What’s her name?”

      Ryan paused.

      “He won’t tell me either,” Jack said.

      “I just don’t want you all to make a big deal about it. It probably won’t last, so I’d rather not talk about it yet,” Ryan said. “So can we just drop the twenty questions?”

      Sandra threw her hands up in surrender. “Fine. I’ll mind my own business and go heat up the meat loaf.”

      She started to walk out of the bedroom but then turned back around. “By the way . . . I spoke to your father.”

      The boys looked at her expectantly.

      “You can ignore what that Dirty Laundry site is claiming. Your father told me the story has no basis in fact. It’s all lies.”

      “We know, Mom,” Jack said.

      “I just wanted to make it clear,” Sandra said.

      “Got it,” Ryan said.

      As she left Jack’s bedroom and headed back down the stairs, Sandra knew the boys wouldn’t be sucked in by a ridiculous rumor. They loved their dad and trusted him and would always give him the benefit of the doubt.

      She just wished she could do the same.

      Later, as her sons scarfed down the meat loaf and two helpings of a homemade peanut butter pie she had bought at a bake sale the previous weekend, the boys recounted the highlights of their day, as was dinner tradition: Jack’s makeup test for failing a bio exam, Ryan’s new creative writing teacher who was encouraging him to start a novel, the upcoming football schedule, Ryan’s intention to try out for the fall musical. They successfully managed to ignore the pandemonium outside.

      At one point, Sandra got up and closed the blinds so she didn’t have to look at a gaggle of nosy reporters staring at them while they ate. She always worked hard to keep up a sense of normalcy. Once they were done and clearing the plates from the table, Ryan excused himself to dash upstairs for his call with his new girlfriend. Jack hung around to help his mother load the dishwasher. They were just about done when Jack received a text on his phone. Sandra noticed his worried face as he stared at it.

      “What’s wrong?” she asked.

      “I just got a text from Dale. He heard Kevin Metcalf was just rushed to the hospital in an ambulance,” Jack said quietly.

      “What for?”

      Jack frantically texted back his friend who had delivered the news. He instantly got a reply. “He doesn’t know.”

      Kevin was a close friend of Jack’s, a running back on the team, and the first of his teammates to publicly support him for coming out. So he was held in high regard by the whole Wallage family.

      “Mom, we have to go . . . ,” Jack pleaded.

      Sandra didn’t even let him finish. She called upstairs to Ryan to hold down the fort, marched to the foyer, and grabbed her bag off the side table. Despite the challenge of maneuvering their way through the circus on their front lawn, they were going to the hospital.

      CHAPTER FOUR

      Sandra and Jack spotted Joel Metcalf in the waiting area as they emerged from the elevator on the second floor of the South Portland hospital. He looked pale and stricken as he sat slumped over in a chair, a cup of coffee in his hand, staring straight ahead as if in a trance. He was a tall man, well over six feet, lanky build, head shaven, and he sported a brown goatee punctuated with specks of gray. Sitting next to Joel, with a hand around his shoulder, was Coach Vinnie Cooper, about a foot shorter, with a buzz cut, stout and bulky with a big belly, and wearing a nylon jacket with the high school team’s insignia.

      As Sandra and Jack approached, Joel’s eyes flickered toward them, and he attempted a smile, but he just couldn’t get there.

      Joel