Page 12 of A Better Place

CHAPTER THREE

Carly

I didn’t take extra time getting ready for the game tonight. I didn’t. I may have checked things over a couple more times, worn my favorite pair of jeans and looked over my make-up more than once. But that doesn’t mean a thing. It doesn’t mean that I am hoping to see James or that I want him to see me at my best. Because today in my classroom? Wasn’t my best. At all.

It doesn’t mean that just the sight of him playing with all the kids in my class, talking with them and paying attention to everything they said, letting them know every word that came out of their mouths mattered, laughing with them, making jokes and accepting the offered cookie from Samuel, made my heart beat triple time.

When I saw him standing outside the school office, I tripped. Again. Over nothing! Just the sight of him has me tripping over myself. I had to lock myself in my classroom during lunch and recess, begging one of the other teachers to take my spot today, claiming I was having cramps because I’m apparently a seventeen-year-old trying to get out of running the mile in P.E. class, and I couldn’t come up with a better excuse.

Thank goodness, she didn’t question it. Just nodded her head and said to feel better. I thought I was doing pretty good, then I glanced out the window in my classroom that looks out into the playground. James was playing soccer with about thirty first graders. Laughing with them and giving them his undivided attention. At one point, I think he had about six kids hanging off him as he tried to run down the makeshift soccer field.

Not that I was watching the entire time.

I’m climbing the bleachers, my thick blue and white woven Mexican blanket in hand, a mustard yellow knitted stocking hat on my head. I’m in my traditional Friday night football gear: skinny jeans, a red Liberty High School football hoodie with a long sleeve underneath, and tall brown boots. Hardly a fashion statement, but it’s Michigan, and it’s basically layering season. I see Christine, one of my closest friends, who I met when she started coming to my yoga class, and take a seat next to her. Her daughter, Bri, is close with Grady, Harper’s older brother. Close, as in, I’m pretty sure they’re dating but don’t realize it or admit it to anyone. Also close, as in, she was being assaulted at a party a few weeks ago, and Grady damn-near beat the shit out of the kid who was at fault.

“Hey girl!” she says as I lay my blanket down to sit and take my seat next to her.

I lean over and give her a side hug. “Hey there. How was your day?”

“Good. Busy. This cooler weather has people coming in more than usual,” she tells me. She owns Dreamin’ Beans, the best little coffee shop ever. The way I understand it, it was always her dream to own and run a coffee shop. Her husband had been preparing to fulfill her dream, then cancer hit their family and didn’t release its hold. A few months after Christine’s husband passed away, she found out about the money he had set aside. “How was your day?”

“Ugh, weird.”

She leans down and picks up a travel coffee cup and hands it to me with a wink. “Better?”

“Goodness, yes,” I say as I lift the coffee cup close to my face and inhale the rich aroma. “Thank you,” I mumble as I blow on the coffee through the tiny sipping hole.

“Of course. So why was it weird? Were the kids crazy?”

“No. It wasn’t the kids. Although, did you hear about what happened to Harper Ryan?”

She nods her head. “I did. Bri told me, of course. But I also had to take Maggie home from volleyball practice last night and stayed to help a little bit. They had a house full of kids, and they weren’t even there.”

I sit up a little straighter. “You were at the Ryan’s house last night?”

“Yeah,” she confirms as she glances over and waves at Bri sporting Grady’s jersey. Christine waves obnoxiously, probably hoping to embarrass her slightly, but all she gets is a smile in return. They look like they could be twins, both with long dark silky hair, except Christine has this gorgeous red streak through hers and a tiny diamond stud in her nose. Their olive skin and bright green eyes make them look like they belong on an Italian island rather than Michigan. If they both weren’t two of the nicest individuals I’d ever come across, I’d probably hate them.

“I bet it was busy there last night,” I say, hoping she’ll give me a little more information about the person I’m trying not to think about, but failing miserably.

“It was. Jack was there, I’m sure you know that though. Grady’s friends were all pretty worried over little Harper. It was pretty cute. She was eating it all up, as you can imagine. I think she even put the back of her hand to her forehead and sighed at one point.”

We both giggle as I imagine how dramatic Harper would have been in front of the football team.

“Oh!” she says with a bright smile. She wiggles her eyebrows at me before saying, “Tess’s brother, James, was there since Barrett and Tess were at the cabin. He made dinner for everyone. Oh my word, the man can cook. He made huge pans of lasagna and this garlic bread that I’m pretty sure he made from scratch. Seriously, so good. Have you met him?”

“Um, yeah.” I shift awkwardly in my place on the bench. “I met him today, actually,” I tell her and lift the coffee cup to my lips then look toward the football field, hoping she doesn’t read more into it.

“Oh, rea-ally.” Her voice goes up and down.

Drat.She read into it.

“Mm-hmm.”

“Oh, don’t mm-hmm me. I know that look.”

“There’s no look.” I try to defend.

“Oh, there’s a look. Look me in the eyes and tell me there’s not a look. I know a look when I see a look.”

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