but sensed the remnants of the little boy inside Oliver’s fourteen-year-old shell: the kind heart, the hidden innocence, the fragility of a child still trying to make sense of it all. He remembered what he was like when he was fourteen. Cocky and all knowing, happy to tell you what you should believe or how you were wrong. Those attributes had served him well as a writer but had certainly dredged up trouble along the way.
Oliver was completely different. Certainly not as confident as Whitaker had been. Definitely hesitant to trust anyone. But Whitaker also detected a note of wisdom, like Oliver had seen it all before. There were times when Whitaker would be talking to him and suddenly feel like he himself was the younger of the two.
Another notion became obvious. Oliver was not the kind of boy you could lie to. He’d been the victim of lies all his life, and he’d been hardened by them. He’d come to believe people were guilty until proven innocent. It reminded Whitaker of an idea he’d heard during his research for Saving Orlando.
You couldn’t tell kids who’ve been hurt you love them; you had to show them.
Then the food came . . .
Claire watched Oliver eating his hamburger with only ketchup and mayonnaise and fries. Fourteen years old was such a difficult age, even if you were raised in a normal environment. It wasn’t fair that Oliver had to deal with so much more than traversing the typical rites of passage.
His mom had abandoned him and apparently abused him physically. He had no father to speak of. Somehow, he’d turned out okay. A bit rough around the edges. She could tell he had his issues, as anyone in his case would. But he was a fighter, a kid trying to do his best.
Okay, he’d broken into a car, perhaps even run with a rough crowd—if David’s comparisons between Orlando and Oliver were accurate—but he could have gone down a much worse path. He could have been much angrier at the world. Instead, he seemed to be trying. And trying his best was all you could ask of a boy—no matter his circumstances.
Though they’d hit a few stumbling blocks in their conversation earlier, Claire felt like Oliver had opened up with them enough to dive deeper. “What were you doing breaking into a car?”
Oliver didn’t seem to mind the question at all. “Hanging around the wrong kids in school. Trying to impress them.”
“You don’t hang out with them anymore?”
“Nah, that was my old school. And a long time ago. Now I just hang out with the other baseball players mostly. Our coach doesn’t put up with that kind of thing. Our first baseman was caught toe tagging toward the end of the season. Coach kicked him right off the team, didn’t even let him explain himself.”
“I’ve read about this toe tagging thing,” Claire said, “where the kids all meet up at night in a parking lot and start racing around town.”
“Yeah, exactly. Driving like boneheads.”
Oliver let her steal one of his fries. Then she said to him, “I have to give it to you. Someone who’s been through what you’ve dealt with. You have every reason to still be running with that rough crowd, breaking into cars, toe tagging, God knows what else. But here you are, playing baseball and getting good grades, wanting to go to Duke. I just think you’re an awesome human and an inspiration, and I hope you know that.”
Oliver blushed and looked down at his burger. “I have David to thank for a lot of it. If he hadn’t convinced me to try out for the team, I might still be in a pretty bad place. Baseball is just about all I think about now.”
Claire wiped her eyes and patted his back. “Did he come see you play?”
“Yeah, quite a bit. That’s why we got in the fight, because he came to a game, and I didn’t show. He knew I wasn’t sick.”
Claire imagined David sitting in the bleachers watching Oliver play. Was this when he was supposed to be going on a long bike ride after work? “So what’s this Yankees obsession?”
Oliver finished a french fry. “It’s the one thing I know about my dad. Sounds stupid, but my mom told me he loved the Yankees. I think that’s about the one thing she knew. As much as I want to hate him, I try to picture him as a nice guy. David took me to