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He rose to his feet and read an interesting observation on war and how it affected families. I propped my cheek on my hand and listened to him. I didn’t think he needed a tutor at all. When he was done, Cal sat down.
“That’s very good, Cal. I like your contrast between the father the soldier and the father to his children. The emotion he feels, being torn about his duty to his family and country is excellent without coming out and smacking us in the face with it.”
“Thank you,” Cal replied. I could see that he was uncomfortable. Suddenly his face turned towards mine. His intense gaze wasn’t like usual. He wasn’t being sweet and charming. He was different. He was feeling things that he didn’t really want anyone not even me to see.
Then he looked away and I wondered what he wanted to hide from me.
“Anyone else?” Miss Hillard asked.
Several students got to their feet and read their poetry. Some were good and some were just plain terrible, but Miss Hillard never said a negative word to those who sucked at writing poetry. She smiled and said something positive about each one. Then she offered a suggestion for how to improve the next time.
The bell rang and everyone hurried to the next class. I moved slower because of my boot. Cal waited on me.
Miss Hillard stopped me by her desk. “Cal could I speak to Abby please?”
“Sure, Miss Hillard,” he said leaving me with at the teacher’s desk. I thought I was in trouble.
She leaned against her desk. Her slacks were purple, and her top was multi-colored. She was beautiful with her long, dark hair pulled back from her face. “Could I see your notebook?”
I glanced down at the floor then I handed her the journal that I clutched so tightly in my arms. She glanced through the first few pages then she read my poem. I knew where she was in the book. I didn’t have that many pages to read yet. I knew she could see what I had written about Tyson too. My cheeks flamed with embarrassment. I wondered what she would say.
Then Miss Hillard handed me back my notebook. I tucked it in my arms. She smiled at me. “Great start Abby but not complete.”
I nodded.
“You can go to your next class.”
“Thank you,” I said and started to turn away from her. “I had a brother too. Sometimes, it’s fun and sometimes they are a big pain in the…well you know,” she said and gave me a wink.
I glanced over my shoulder at her. “They are, aren’t they?” She nodded as she smiled at me.
Then I walked out into the hall surprised to find Cal waiting on me. We went to History class together, making it just in time before the final bell rang.
**
Lunch was an unusual experience for me. Cal ate with me.
Tonight, after school I was going to sit in the library and wait on Tyson to finish practice. Mom didn’t like to make two trips to school to pick us up. I could work on homework here as easily as I could at home, so I didn’t really care if I had to wait.
As soon as we sat down, other boys began to join us, friends of Cal’s. He introduced me to them. Some were members of the football team and a few were just friends that he had known for a long time. I sat at the table with all boys and felt more awkward than I ever had in my life.
Cal talked with his friends while I ate my lunch. I gathered that two of his friends sitting across from him, both playing football with him and Tyson lived on the same street as Cal. The others had all gone to school together since kindergarten. They were lifelong friends.
“Aren’t you Tyson Gardener’s sister?” The boy at the end asked. He was nice enough. I had learned he played football too. I didn’t know what position. I cared little for the game. Understood less.
I nodded.
“Man, he is good. He replaced him as starting quarterback,” he said pointing to another table where a black, haired guy with scruffy good looks sat with a blonde that was more than beautiful. She was breathtaking.
I stared too long, and her eyes turned towards me. She scowled at me until I looked away. Then Cal caught me staring too. He leaned in and whispered, “She’s the head cheerleader of the varsity squad.”
We were shoulder to shoulder, staring in each other’s eyes. I was holding a pickle like the big dork that I am. Then, Cal broke the spell by biting into my pickle. I frowned at him. He smiled.
“Cal, is your dad going to make it home for one of your games?” The boy across the table asked. The one who lived on the same street as Cal. His name was Aiden, I think. There were ten of them even though I had been told all their names, I thought I would have to hear them a time or two before I was sure of them.
“I don’t know,” he replied. He crossed his arms in front of him and stared at the table. I knew wherever his father was it hurt Cal. “He hopes to make it home before the last game, but you never know.”
I didn’t pry into his business. I wanted to ask questions, but I didn’t. Our arms touched and he looked at me again in an odd sort of way.
