Page 48 of Gifts

I hitch my bags up my shoulder. “Yeah, let’s get the weekend started, shall we?”

Asa’s hand sneaks around in back of his daughter, catching mine for a squeeze. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

I smile and hope that Stephie can get away on a Saturday night to watch the kids. If not, I may have to call my parents and that will be a headache. My mother, in particular, hates all the animals and doesn’t understand why I stay. Driving out to the country requires an act of congress and my kids don’t like overnighters, even with their grandparents or favorite aunt.

This is all I can think about as I try to make small talk with Emma on our way out of the school. I have an hour before Knox and Saylor get home and I’m going to use every minute of it to try and get her to open up.

Chapter 12

Revenge

Keelie

“Turn left and it’s the third house on the right—the cobblestone.”

I go where Emma directs me, even though I’ve tried to drive slow and get her to talk in the process. I’ve rambled on about music, movies, her brother, and even her mom. All I’ve gotten is sighs, shrugs, head shakes, or grunts. Trying to get troubled teens to open up is one of the hardest parts of my job. It almost makes me grateful that Saylor can’t keep her mouth shut. At least I always know what she’s thinking and feeling. I should appreciate that as long as it lasts.

I pull into the driveway of a brand-new home with minimal landscaping and small trees. It blends into the neighborhood where all the houses look similar, and even though they’re much larger than middle class, there’s something about them that screams boring and cookie cutter. It does not fit Asa Hollingsworth, that’s for sure. Though, I’m not sure what does fit him.

Besides my pantry. That seems to fit him just fine.

As soon as I put my van in park, Emma moves to open her door, but I reach for her forearm to stop her. “Emma, wait.”

She freezes before looking over to me, and with all the manners it appears she can muster, says, “Oh, sorry. Thanks for the ride.”

I shake my head. “You’re welcome, but I wasn’t fishing for a thank you. Let’s drop the idle chit-chat, shall we?”

Her brow furrows. “What do you mean?”

“You’re fifteen, and despite the last few months, you’re a bright girl going through a hard time. I’ve worked with a lot of kids, and even though I’m just getting to know you, I can tell your family loves you. People are worried about you. You should let them help.”

She swallows hard. “There’s nothing to help with.”

“Emma,” I soften my voice. “Even if I didn’t know your grades are suffering or that you don’t socialize with friends the way you used to, it would be easy to see something is definitely wrong.”

“I tell my dad the same thing every day, Miz Lockhart—”

“Call me Keelie,” I correct her.

She sighs but ignores me. “When I tell my dad and Levi I’m fine, I mean it. My mom calls a million times a day just to ask the same thing. I’ve started not answering her calls because I’m so sick of it. I don’t know what else to tell everyone—I just want to be left alone. Why does everyone insist there’s something wrong with me all the time?”

“You can talk to me,” I offer. “Just because your dad and I are friends—”

She huffs and raises an eyebrow.

I roll my eyes. “Okay, then. Just because your dad and I are spending time together, I’m still your counselor. Making sure you're prepared for college entrance exams isn't my only job. I'm also here to make sure you have a healthy high school experience. You can talk to me.”

She shakes her head and lowers her voice. “I can’t.”

I reach out and take her hand, looking her straight in the eyes. “But you can, Emma. If you need help, I can help you.”

She bites her lip and hope blossoms inside of me, thinking there’s a minute chance she’ll hand over her worries. At this point I’d settle for one—taking that load off her soul that she’s been bearing for months and cutting her family off from every part of her that matters.

Her lips part, but just as she's about to speak, we hear it—a car driving too fast down Asa's quiet neighborhood street. We both look out the back of my van and I hear the screech of tires.

“What in the world?” I crane my neck to look out the side window of my old van when I hear it again, but this time the screeching of the tires happens right in front of Asa’s house. I feel my eyes go big.

“Oh, fuck,” I breathe and turn to Emma.

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