Dream Chasers by Barbara Fradkin

“Pleased to meet you, Jenna Zukowski. Social worker, eh? Don’t mind me saying so, but you hardly look old enough to be out of high school.”
    She felt the red extend from her toes to the roots of her hair. She yanked her hand free. Ken smiled at her sympathetically. “Ignore him. You have something to discuss with me?”
    â€œYes, but...well...” She struggled to untangle her tongue. “It’s about Lea Kovacev.”
    â€œOh, is there news?”
    â€œNo. At least not that I know of. But I’m concerned about her friends and how they’re coping, whether they need support...” She trailed off.
    â€œAs far as I know, all her friends have been taken care of. Guidance made a big push yesterday to touch base with them.”
    â€œYes, I was helping with that. But it struck me that it was mostly girls who came down to see us. Girls have an easier time talking about things, expressing feelings, asking for help.”
    Ken smiled drily. “Whereas boys go out and punch someone? That’s what you mean?”
    â€œWell, no. I mean, not punch someone, but bottle it up. Pretend everything’s cool and under control.” Vic muttered something under his breath. Sensing a hint of mockery, she turned to glare at him. “Suicide statistics among young men back me up on that.”
    â€œYou’re right, you’re absolutely right,” Ken interjected. “But I’ve been monitoring the boys in my classes to make sure that if I see any hint of trouble, I speak to them. They may not go down to Guidance, but they talk to me privately.”
    â€œAnd were there any? I mean, boys that you were worried about?” Ken frowned at her thoughtfully for a moment.
    â€œNot unduly,” he said eventually. Then he glanced at his watch in dismay and shoved his whistle in his mouth. Waving his arms, he blew three blasts that left Jenna’s ears ringing. Through gritted teeth, she persevered with her script.
    â€œDo you know if any of the boys were especially close to her? Boyfriends or ex-boyfriends? Those will be the ones in the most distress.”
    Ken continued to wave as he started down the stairs. “I don’t pay attention to that.”
    Jenna followed him, aware of Vic uncomfortably close behind her. “She must have had boyfriends. She was a pretty girl.”
    Ken stopped abruptly and swung on her. “Was? Are you suggesting she’s dead?”
    â€œNo, no! Of course not! But I mean, it’s worrisome, don’t you think?”
    â€œI don’t think anything,” Ken retorted. “And don’t you go putting that kind of thought into the kids’ minds either!”
    â€œWhoa Kenny, easy now,” Vic said. “I think Jenna’s just saying what we’re all thinking. Right? Just preparing ourselves. In case. In the sports business, it’s always good to be prepared. Anticipate that bodycheck before it slams you into the boards.”
    â€œOh, fuck off, Vic,” Ken said as he strode off across the field.
    * * *
    By nine o’clock in the morning, the heat had already draped a soggy blanket over the streets. Behind the smoggy haze, the sun shone blurry white in the eastern sky, and not the slightest puff of breeze stirred the leaves in the wilting trees. As Green approached Norman Bethune Alternate School, he saw a group of students clustered in the shade of a massive old tree, fanning themselves with notebooks as they bent over their work. Green scanned the crowd anxiously for a familiar blue head, but to no avail.
    He approached the group. It was like looking at a dozen Hannahs. Shredded clothes, body piercings and tattoos were everywhere, and hair styles ranged from tiger-striped mohawks to gothic black sheets. The students eyed him with suspicion, no doubt bemused by his Bagelshop T -shirt and jeans, but their eyes grew dark when he introduced himself. A lanky, skeletal girl in a long, multicoloured