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“What?”
“You heard me. I said I’d do it with him, and you chose to still write it yourself. Why?”
“I—”
“I thought I recognized the voices of two tardy students. Class isn’t being held in the hallway today.” Mr. Tanner appears in the doorway of our English classroom.
“Sorry, Mr. Tanner,” Caleb says, his tone vastly different than the one he just used with me. Instead of angry, he sounds exhausted.
“It won’t happen again,” I add meekly.
He nods, and ducks back inside the classroom, clearly expecting Caleb and me to follow. We do.
“I can meet on Wednesday at the same time as before,” Caleb mutters as we finish our trek to the classroom door.
“Fine.”
CHAPTERSEVEN
LENNON
When the numbers on my phone display a four and a five, I realize Caleb isn’t coming. I arrived at the field just before 5:30, again.
The smug satisfaction over having beaten Caleb here has long since faded; first I was annoyed, and now I’m smack dab in the midst of anger. Instead of being thrilled he stood me up, I’m pissed. Worse, I feel foolish. Caleb not showing didn’t even occur to me when I woke up extra early this morning.
The school won’t even be unlocked for another fifteen minutes. I literally have nothing to do except sit here and stew.
The parking lot fills slowly as the time ticks past. I should take advantage of the opportunity to accomplish something, but I’m too aggravated to focus right now. I just sit and stare out at the empty field, not really seeing anything in front of me.
Eventually, I leave the bleachers and head toward the entrance to the school. Andrew is walking along the sidewalk from the opposite direction. I march right up to him.
“I can’t do the article on Caleb. I tried. I really did. But I can’t do it.”
Shockingly, Andrew nods. I figured he’d freak out. Instead, he looks…understanding? “I get it, Lennon. I know where you’re coming from, but unless he tells you he can’t—”
“Itoldyou this would happen, Andrew! The whole news staff heard me say it was a bad idea, but you insisted I do it.”
“Wait. What are you talking about?” Andrew asks.
“The interview with Caleb! I gave it a chance, and fine, he showed up the first time but this time—”
He cuts me off. “You haven’t heard?”
“Heard what?” I reply. A trickle of unease interrupts the indignation when I see Andrew’s expression has turned somber.
“Senator Winters was rushed to the hospital last night. He died a couple of hours ago.”
“Oh.” That one syllable is all I can manage for a minute. “I hadn’t heard,” I add unnecessarily. I’m pretty sure my shocked expression already conveyed that to Andrew.
He nods grimly. “Needless to say, we’ll forget about the article for now. We’ll revisit it…later.” Andrew doesn’t expand on when that will be before continuing along the sidewalk, leaving me standing here.
News of Senator Winters’s death spreads like wildfire through the halls of Landry High. Everyone speaks in muted tones. Teachers offer amateur counseling services. A giant scroll of white paper is spread across three folding tables in the front lobby. A rainbow of scrawled condolences soon cover every inch.
I spend most of the day comparing the reaction to Senator Winters’s passing to my parents’ deaths, and I hate that I do. Loss isn’t any sort of competition. But I can’t help but compare the outpouring of support to the awkward condolences and subsequent shunning Gramps and I were subjected to.
Caleb isn’t back in school on Thursday. Or Friday. According to the rumor mill, he’s with his parents in the nation’s capital, attending some sort of memorial service being held there in honor of the late senator.
It’s announced a funeral will take place at the Winters’s estate on Sunday, so I know he’ll be back in Landry by then.
