Chapter 17 #2
“Only if you’re interested,” Steve added quickly, like he was worried he’d offended me by mentioning it. “If you can get something else lined up, then that’s great. I don’t wanna overstep.”
My brain finally made the U-turn it had been struggling with.
“I—no, I’m—yeah, I’m in!” Shit, if I could get a trade qualification, that would make all the difference in the world.
My mind started racing with what this could mean for Gracie and me.
Sure, the pay as an apprentice would be lower to begin with, but my stripping money would hold me over, and once I was qualified I’d be earning a decent wage. “Plumbing’s a solid trade.”
“Good,” Steve said gruffly, the relief shining in his eyes. “I’ll give you Larry’s number and you can call him if you want.”
Like there was ever any question. I was overcome with gratitude. For an awful moment, I’d thought the worst of Steve, thought that he didn’t have my back, but of course he did. He always had. “I appreciate it, Steve. Really.”
“That’s settled then,” Uncle Steve said, and I had a suspicion that it actually was settled and me talking to Larry was just a formality.
I wouldn’t have been surprised if Uncle Steve had pulled some strings to get me the job—he had all kinds of contacts, and he’d been watching out for me since my parents had thrown me out—but at the same time, I felt like I’d kind of earned it.
I was mostly on time, and I didn’t take sick days, and I did good work.
And now hopefully it was all gonna pay off.
On impulse I grabbed him and gave him a hug. “I don’t know how to thank you.”
“It’s not a big deal,” Steve said, patting me on the back once before pulling away.
We both knew he was lying, but I didn’t call him on it.
“Don’t you have to go get your kid?” he asked.
I checked the time. Shit. “Yeah, I gotta go or I’ll be late.”
I was still grinning as I drove out of the parking lot, and I found myself tapping my fingers along in time to the music on the radio as it really started to sink in that I might just have a future after all. I couldn’t wait to tell Avery all about it.
Danny. I couldn’t wait to tell Danny all about it. That was who I’d meant, obviously. Danny, my best friend, not Avery, my neighbor who happened to be my sex coach.
Although maybe, if things went the way I hoped when we talked, I could look at updating that definition.
Once I got all the details from Larry, I’d have to let Cassidy know.
She’d be happy for me. She’d always worried about me being a roofer, but that was just because she didn’t like heights herself.
She thought it was more dangerous than it was.
I sure as hell wouldn’t miss working on a hot roof in the middle of summer, though.
I got to the school right on time. I didn’t even bother trying to get a spot in the lot, which was always full to bursting at pickup time, and I avoided the kiss and drop zone where the older kids got collected.
We were a little while into the school year now, so a bunch of parents had taken to waiting in their cars for their kids, but I liked to walk to the classroom and get a glimpse of what the kids had been working on that day.
The place had an ever-changing wallpaper of drawings and paintings.
Of course, it helped that I liked to get a glimpse of Avery too.
I parked about half a block past the school and walked back.
As I arrived, little kids were just starting to spill out of the place, lugging backpacks that looked too big for them and running and chattering with their friends.
I reached Gracie’s classroom and exchanged a smile and a nod with one of the moms I vaguely recognized.
The classroom was a riot of color, like always, and the kids were grabbing backpacks and hats from their cubbies.
Gracie was helping some little boy with his shoes.
It was the blind leading the blind, though, since even I could tell from the doorway that she was trying to put them on the wrong feet.
That was usually the sort of thing that Avery would have been all over, with a warm smile and a gentle correction, but when I looked around for him, he was leaning against his desk, his arms folded tight over his chest and his mouth downturned.
Mrs. Freeman, who’d been the principal back when I’d been coming here, was talking to him in an undertone and Avery was nodding unhappily.
His eyes widened as he caught my gaze, and Mrs. Freeman turned to see who he was looking at.
“Wilder,” she said, smiling. “Can we have a word, please?”
And yeah, walking over to her now caused my heart to pound in my chest in the exact same way it had when I was seven and she’d busted me throwing rocks at a hornets’ nest in the playground.
I cast a worried look at Gracie as I crossed the room, but she and the little boy had finally figured out the shoe thing.
“My goodness, you’ve grown!” Mrs. Freeman said, holding out her hand so we could shake. “It’s been a while, I guess.”
“Yeah,” I said warily.
“So, we have a situation,” she said. “As I’ve been telling Mr. Smith, it’s not an issue, but it is something we want you to be aware of.”
I looked over to Gracie again, sudden uncertain fear twisting my gut.
Was there something wrong? Did she need to get tested for something?
She was smart as hell but scatterbrained sometimes, but weren’t all five-year-olds like that?
Or what if she’d been mean to the other kids?
She liked to take charge. Had she crossed a line?
I’d been worried she might get bullied at some point—what if she was the bully?
“Bye, Mr. Smith!” one of the kids yelled.
“Bye, Mia!” Avery called. “See you tomorrow!” And his smile faded again as soon as he turned back to us.
“Mr. Smith has had a complaint,” Mrs. Freeman said. “About you.”
“Me?” I asked. For a second I couldn’t hear anything over the loud buzzing in my head, and the sudden awful certainty that someone knew Avery and I had been hooking up.
“I put a picture of you in the class newsletter,” Avery said, “from the Adventurama.”
“Oh,” I said and then added dumbly, “I haven’t read it yet.”
“Well, someone did,” Mrs. Freeman said, “and shared it. This morning I had a complaint against Mr. Smith from John Wilder—Pastor John Wilder—that you’re not a suitable person to be going on school field trips.”
I felt suddenly cold, as though I’d stepped off a ledge into a black lake in the middle of winter and sunk straight to the bottom. The pressure squeezed on my chest, and all I could do was give a jerky nod to show that I’d heard.
Mrs. Freeman looked around and lowered her voice so that little ears didn’t catch her words. “To put it bluntly, it’s bullshit. Our parent helpers are a valued resource, and I don’t take kindly to being told otherwise.”
I wondered what he’d put in the complaint. Probably the same sort of shit he’d said to me the night he kicked me out. That I was disobedient, evil, ungodly, and I’d be going to hell. I was pretty sure he hadn’t mellowed in the last few years. My dad wasn’t ever going to change.
“You can imagine my shock when Mrs. Freeman said the complaint was from John Wilder,” Avery said, his smile wavering.
It was obvious he was still shaken up. Of course he was.
He was a great teacher, and my dad had put in a complaint against him for daring to have anything to do with me.
Avery cared so much for Gracie, and for all his students, and that asshole was trying to get him in trouble.
“I just wanted to make you aware,” Mrs. Freeman said, laying a hand on my forearm briefly. “In case there’s any issues further down the line. Or…” She hesitated. “Or in your personal life.”
“I don’t have any contact with my parents,” I said.
I felt so brittle I was surprised I could speak without my voice shaking.
I felt as though I wasn’t quite here, as though the roaring in my skull was wrapped around me like a hurricane, keeping me separate from this whole conversation.
“Neither does Gracie. Av—Mr. Smith is a great teacher!”
It must have come out too loudly because Mrs. Freeman blinked rapidly. “That was never in question, Wilder.”
Good.
Good.
My dad hadn’t ruined things for Avery. Made them harder maybe, but not ruined them. Maybe he was losing his touch after all.
I couldn’t bear to look at Avery.
“Daddy?” Gracie tugged on my jeans. “I’ve got my backpack!”
Her little hand snaked into mine, and I held it tightly.
“Okay,” Mrs. Freeman said, smiling again. “We’ll let you go.”
“See you tomorrow, Mr. Smith!” Gracie said.
“Bye, Gracie!” He cleared his throat. “Bye, Wilder.”
I suddenly wanted to hear him call me Johnny, the way nobody else ever did. But he wouldn’t, after this. He already didn’t want to date me. After this, he probably wouldn’t want to cross the street to piss on me if I was on fire.
“Bye,” I said to the floor. And then, before I could think any better of it, I said, “It won’t happen again. None of it will happen again.”
And then I turned and hurried out of his bright, colorful classroom, dragging Gracie with me.