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Dad’s eyes tracked from the Rhodora Center parking lot to the hospital. “Dr. Sanders might think this is a good idea, but I’m not so sure.”
Mom rubbed his arm, then held his hand. “You’re going to do great, honey.”
He cleared his throat but didn’t shy away from her. Still, she dropped his hand, giving him some space, and we started walking.
Mom pressed the buzzer at the door and said, “Douglas Adams is here for his first day.” Someone dressed in scrubs came to the heavy glass double doors and let us in.
“Doug, it’s great to see you. And these are your lovely wife and daughter?”
Dad’s smile was crooked, but visible, and that gave me hope. “Grace and April.”
“Great to meet you. I’m Belinda, the charge nurse here. I’ll give you a tour and then show you where you’ll be starting today.”
We walked with Belinda, trailing slightly after as she showed us around the center—there was a music area, an art room, a massive kitchen, and more. Dad was stiff the entire time, but when we got to the community area, Belinda said, “What do you think of the Rhodora, Doug?”
Dad cleared his throat. “It seems okay.”
My heart twisted, searching his tone, his body language for any hint that this wasn’t okay.
“Great,” Belinda said with a smile. “You two have a great day. We’ll get him back to you safe and sound.”
Dad nodded. “Have a good day at school... and work.” Then he turned around. There was no hug for Mom or me. No wave goodbye.
My eyes felt hot as Mom and I walked out of the building. We stood on the wide sidewalk that led to the parking lot and looked at each other.
“That was a lot,” Mom whispered.
I nodded, wiping at my eyes. It was hard to leave him, no matter how good this place would be for him. “What now?” I asked Mom. My throat felt tight.
She pulled me into a hug, rubbing my back for a moment before she whispered, “We live our lives.”
Fourteen
Diego
After our encounterat the party, I fully expected April to level me with an incinerating glare first thing Monday morning. Instead, when I got to class, her seat was empty. Even after the bell rang, she still wasn’t there.
Mrs. Morgan began going over the lecture like nothing was out of the norm. So I leaned over to the guy next to me. “Where’s the new girl?”
He shrugged. No help.
Why did I care anyway? School would be better without constantly encountering someone who hated my guts.
I got out my notebook and tried to take notes on the intricacies of Elizabeth Bronte’s writing style. I doodled in an attempt to keep my hands busy and my mind clear, but soon my doodles turned into plays for the game Friday night.
Coach had taught us a few new plays, a couple where I ran for a pass as opposed to blocking on the line. This overwhelming sense of loss overcame me as I realized this Friday would be my last first football game... ever.
The bell rang, and Mrs. Morgan assigned us fifty more pages to read with accompanying annotations. Just one of many assignments I’d be cramming in tonight.
I got up, slinging my backpack over my shoulder. Halfway down the hallway to my next class, I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket. After checking to make sure there weren’t any teachers looking, I read the text.
Xander: Dare you to grind the ramp outside before our next class.
A grin split my face, and I texted him back before even thinking.
Diego: Deal.
Just like last time, I went into the boys’ bathroom, locking myself into a stall. I could see Xander’s leather shoes with the brand on the side that he made from bending and burning a paperclip. Anything to be different. On the other side, Terrell’s massive feet were visible under the stall. His parents had to special order leather shoes so he’d adhere to the dress code.
