Page 23 of Keeping Score

Some people didn’t like that about him, but I thought it was better to know something than to wonder.

Disregarding him, the principal looked over to the secretary, reaching for a piece of paper she’d dug out of a folder that had been tucked away in a filing cabinet.

He stared at the sheet, dialing numbers on the landline before putting it to his ear.

“Mrs. Brynn?” he asked after what could only have been two rings. “This is Principal Heywood from the elementary school. We have Liam and Margaret here—”

“Maggie,” I frowned, correcting him.

“—and they haven’t been picked up yet. We were just calling to check in and make sure everything’s okay.”

He paused, listening.

“No, no. That’s fine,” he assured her. “We just wanted to call and let you know because we couldn’t get in touch with your husband.”

Another pause. Liam leaned forward in his seat as if he could hear what our mother was saying on the other side of the line.

“Okay, we’ll see you soon.” He hung up, then turned to look at us. “Your mother’s on her way.”

Liam huffed a sigh, shaking his head as if this whole ordeal was completely unnecessary.

I inched impossibly closer to him, taking solace in the fact I wasn’t sitting here by myself waiting.

“Is everything okay?” I looked up at him.

He was barely two years older than me, but he had an air about him of being much older. He was serious, determined. More mature than any eleven-year-old had a right to be—that’s what adults always told him.

“Of course,” he said with complete sincerity. “Just wait. We’re going to see him at dinner. He’ll probably take us out for ice cream or something to make it up to us for being late. Just wait.”

He didn’t come to dinner that night.

But I waited.

I waited for fifteen years.

Chapter Six

Brody

Iwas pretty sure Maggie was pissed at me.

Maggie didn’t like being wrong, and I didn’t necessarily tell her she was, but I intervened in a situation she felt was hers to navigate.

Hence, Maggie was definitely pissed at me.

Hence again, why I was on Mr. Waterman’s steps with a bouquet of roses, waiting for her to get off work.

“You here to take me to the dance?” Mr. Waterman’s voice called out from the window.

I looked up, grinning at the white-haired old man sneering at me with disgust.

“I would, but I didn’t bring my dancing shoes.” I smiled cheekily up at him.

“Then why the hell are you on my steps again, boy?”

“I’m waiting for my girlfriend!” I called back. “I told you. She works over there.” I pointed in the direction of Maggie’s law office, only to see her crossing the street toward me with a quizzical expression.

“Why are you yelling?” she asked, coming to stand by my side.