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I winced. “Not technically anymore, no.”
“Then why did you have to go see this someone?”
I stood. “Because he’s going through a hard time and I wanted to know if I needed to keep bringing him homework or not.”
“It’s not your responsibility to keep up Mr. Clarke’s grades.”
“It is when his father is abusive and preventing him from coming to school.”
My teacher paused. “What did you say?”
I shook my head. “Clint’s going through a very tough time. And I’m sorry I was late for your class. But he’s going through a lot right now, and if he doesn’t have to fail his classes I’m not going to let him fail.”
“Did you say ‘abusive’?”
Shit. “If you want to know, visit him. But I won’t be late for your class again. Even though it means possibly not helping out someone in need.”
Then I turned on my heel and left my teacher in the room.
I sprinted for my last class. I only had three minutes to make it damn near to the other side of the school. The bell rang as I ran up the ramp, signaling that I was late. Fucking hell, late for another class. And because of a teacher chewing me out for shit I didn’t deserve to be chewed out for! My grades wouldn't suffer. They never suffered. I was a straight-A student. Had been since middle school.
I leapt into the classroom just before the teacher closed the door.
“Nice save, Miss Cleaver. Stay after class with me, please.”
I sighed. “Good thing I’m not a bus rider.”
The class gasped and I froze.
“What was that, Raelynn?”
I closed my eyes. ?
??I said, ‘Okay. I’ll stay behind.’”
“That’s what I thought you said.”
I swallowed a growl working its way up the back of my throat. It was like a damn catch-22. Late for one class, bitched out by a teacher. Only to be made late for another class so I could get bitched out by another teacher. As I dropped myself into my seat at the back of the class, my eyes found Allison. Michael. The two of them were staring at me as if I’d grown a third head. I nodded at them before pulling out my things, preparing myself to get homework done while my teacher rattled on about bullshit I didn’t care about.
Because I’d gotten a small glimpse at Clint’s world.
Teachers that didn’t care. That didn’t own up to when they made their students late for class. Teachers that didn’t give a damn about someone’s well-being. Or aptitude. Or test scores. This small debacle made me empathize with him more. Because while I’d only gone through it with a couple classes, he’d been going through it for years.
And as I started in on my homework, my mind fell back to Cecilia.
Her, and the emergency that had ripped Clint away from me in the middle of the most important question I needed to ask him.
13
Clinton
I wanted to rush to her when she hopped over the railing. I saw the second she fell over a bit too far that she wouldn't plant herself on her feet. I moved for her, my arms outstretched. All pretenses gone out the window. I wanted to scoop her into my arms and apologize. Take it all back. Tell her I was sorry for my life turning out this way. But when she threw me a look that could’ve killed me where I stood, I stopped in my tracks.
And I watched as she made her way across the lawn.
The anger in her eyes haunted me. It made me worried that I had officially lost her. That I’d never be able to reconcile things once I could dig Cecilia and myself out of this hole. However much I might’ve dreamed about it, I feared the worst. That this was it. That this was the last time I’d ever see Rae, and I was watching her walk away from me.
For good.
