Free Round Robin by Jennifer Chiaverini Page A

asked, if we could have discussed this the way normal, rational, sane people usually discuss these things.”
    â€œIt couldn’t wait,” he said simply, and Diane knew that he, too, had sensed something last night, some unspoken, unintended signal that this could be their last chance to reach their son, to convince him they were interested in his life, that despite their greatly advanced age and their abhorrence of all things fun, they didn’t want his teen years to be entirely miserable.
    She sighed and shook her head, and when Tim’s face brightened she knew he understood that she was granting permission for the project to continue. What else could she do, really? They had installed a basketball hoop for Todd; was a skateboard ramp for Michael any different? Aside from its size, of course, and the expense, and the loss of a good portion of their backyard.
    She turned and walked back to the house so that she wouldn’t have to think about just how large the skateboard ramp would be if it required so much material. Their backyard was big enough; all of the backyards onthis side of the street were, because they bordered the Waterford College Arboretum. The yards were separated by fences and mature trees, so they wouldn’t disturb the neighbors. Really, she couldn’t complain.
    Tim and Michael worked until supper, then headed back outside as soon as the meal was over. After clearing away the dishes, Diane took her sewing basket and the round robin quilt out to the balcony off the master bedroom, so that she could keep an eye on the construction as she planned her border. But the quilt rested in her lap unnoticed. Tim and Michael worked until it grew too dark to see, and all the while Diane watched them, thinking.
    The skateboard ramp took shape that weekend. By Saturday afternoon they had erected a structure of crossbeams that supported a U-shaped curve resembling the cross section of a pipe. It was higher than Diane had expected, and longer, but she clamped her mouth shut and vowed that instead of complaining, she’d buy Michael a helmet.
    That evening some of Todd’s friends came over to watch videos. From the family room where she was loading piles of folded laundry into her basket, she heard them raiding the refrigerator and arguing about which movie to watch first.
    Then one of the boys interrupted the debate with a cry of astonishment. “What the hell is that?”
    Todd’s reply was barely audible, and she had to strain to catch it. “Something for my brother.”
    â€œBut what is it?” another boy asked.
    â€œIt looks like a skateboard ramp.” This voice was lower; it belonged to Mary Beth’s son, Brent.
    â€œGreat theory, Einstein,” Todd retorted. “It only took you one guess.”
    Brent laughed. “I didn’t know you were a skateboard geek.”
    â€œI’m not.”
    â€œYour brother is.”
    â€œSo? That doesn’t mean I am. I mean, look at him. He’s a total loser. I’m nothing like him.”
    Diane’s grip tightened on the handles of the laundry basket.
    â€œYou better watch out,” the first boy drawled. “You have the same genes, right? It might show up later.”
    The boys snickered.
    Diane sailed into the room and slammed the laundry basket down on the kitchen table. Todd and his friends jumped at the sound. “Well, hello, boys,” she declared, nailing a grin to her face. “Getting yourselves a snack?”
    They muttered hellos and sneaked furtive glances at Todd, all but Brent, who had the nerve to look her straight in the eye and smile. “We were just checking out the skateboard ramp,” he said. “It’s really cool. Do you think Michael would let us try it when it’s ready?”
    Insolent little weasel. “You could ask him,” she said, still grinning.
    â€œMaybe later,” Todd said, shoving his friends out of the kitchen. “Mom, I