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Gavin steps closer and uncrosses my arms. Wrapping me in a hug, he says, “Surviving isn’t living, Kat.”
I melt into him despite all the warning signals going off in my brain. I count ten deep breaths before I step away.
“I think it’s time for you to leave.”
“Okay…you’re right. We can’t be alone like this; I don’t trust myself. But know that I’m here for you—in a strictly platonic capacity, of course.”
“Of course,” I mock.
“Right,” he nods. “I think it’s best from this point on if we keep our distance as much as possible. I meant what I said about being professional—in class, if you need my help, that’s what I’m there for. And if you need help outside of it, I’m still there for you; with my classroom door open. We simply have to make sure we never see each other outside of school.”
“Wow, you’ve given this some thought, huh?”
“I think it’s necessary. Don’t you? I can’t fathom any other way to make this work. When I’m near you, something primal takes over. I know you have the same reaction, even though you constantly fight it. If we always have the guarantee of witnesses, there’s no way we can compromise ourselves. Kat and Gavin don’t exist at McKinley. Starting tomorrow, we are Miss Kennedy and Mr. Cooper.”
“So from this point on…it’s as if we just met on the first day of school?”
He smiles. “Maybe the third day would be better.”
“Right,” I laugh.
“Right.” He opens the door and steps over the threshold. “So, I’ll meet you tomorrow then.”
“Ten-four, Mr. Cooper.”
“WELCOME TO OUR HOME, KATHERINE.”
I hang my head. It’s a submissive gesture that I’ve learned over the years when coming to a new place. “Thank you, Mr. and Mrs. Anderson.”
“Oh, please, Katherine,” Mr. Anderson says, “there’s no need to be so formal. You can call us Judy and Pete.”
“Okay.”
I clutch my garbage bag of belongings to my chest. It isn’t much but it’s all I have moving from one home to the next so quickly. That’s what happens when your mom gets arrested for a DUI and you have no other family to crash with. Today’s my fifteenth birthday and she insisted on celebrating with a trip to Dairy Queen. Too bad she already got a jump start on the celebration before we left the house.
“Okay, Katherine,” my social worker, Martha says, “You know the drill. I’ll check back in with you later in the week. Try to get some rest tonight; it’s been a long day.”
Judy touches my shoulder gently. “Honey, let me show you to your room so you can get settled. After that, we have a little treat for you. Ms. Perry said you’re celebrating a birthday today.”
“Oh, no, that’s okay. I don’t need to put you out any more than I already have.”
“Nonsense, young lady,” Pete argues. “First of all, you’re not putting us out. Judy and I have opened our home to kids like you because we want to help. You are part of our family for as long as you’d like. And part of being included in this family is celebrating our special days together. Judy makes the best chocolate cake you’ll ever have.”
“Um…”
“Oh, Pete, give the girl a few moments to collect herself,” Judy chides. She starts leading me down the hall. “C’mon, sweetheart. We’ll get you settled and if you’re feeling up to it, we’ll have some cake. You don’t have to do anything that makes you uncomfortable, Katherine.”
I’m stunned. Up until this point, I’ve never had someone welcome me into their home so warmly. Especially not when they get a call from social services at nine o’clock on a Sunday night.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
Could this possibly be the one home that makes a difference? Is my life about to turn around? I smile to myself thinking about the possibilities.
I wake up sweating from my dream and take a few moments to catch my breath. God, where did that come from? I haven’t thought about the Andersons in years. After the trial, I pushed them into the tight little box of ugliness that I store in the back of my mind. I made a conscious decision to not think about them after that; I didn’t want to give them any more of me than they’d already taken. So why now? Why can’t I stop thinking about all the horrible things that happened to me in their home?
I run my hands through my hair and flop back onto the pillow. I stare at the ceiling and run through the last couple of weeks in my head. Gavin has to be the reason why my subconscious is strolling down memory lane. He’s the only new variable in my life—it’s the one thing that makes sense. Since I’ve met him, all sorts of emotions that I thought were long dead have floated to the surface. What is it about that man? How can one pers
on I barely know affect me so profoundly?
