Page 70 of Please, Sir

“Psst,” Alexa calls from the spot where the freshman girls are huddled.

“What?” Kelly calls back.

“Did you see the guy Miss Riley was talking to this morning at her car?” Alexa asks. She wrinkles her nose. “That’s so not who I pictured her with.”

The girls know my dad. So there is no way that my dad showed up at Bluebell High this morning trying to win her back. They’d just say they saw my dad. But they aren’t saying that, so it’s not him. It’s someone else and something else is clearly going on.

I hope she’s okay, but the pain of her lie lingers, and I can’t bring myself to ask her when she finally rejoins us in the gym ten minutes before the end of practice. She watches us run through the dance one more time, making minimal corrections. When practice is over, I spot her in the parking lot, talking to some man. Grabbing a ride with Carrie, I slip into the passenger seat of her mom’s minivan, and roll the window down as we pass by.

“We’re not playing games anymore,” the man says to her, lowering his voice as we slowly drive past. He lifts a hand in a passive wave, smiling a phony smile. I look at Miss Riley,but she doesn’t look at me. Her eyes stay pinned to the ground.

I don’t know what’s going on, but it’s not my problem.

The drive home is smooth, and jealousy twists my insides as I listen to Carrie’s mom tell her about the amazing shopping trip she has planned for them this weekend. I miss my mom, yeah, but right now, I miss Miss Riley.

After thanking them and waving them off, I drop my bag on the floor and kick off my shoes inside the house, heading straight for the kitchen. On the table is a cut up pizza, the kind you make at home from your freezer. Dad comes in from the garage, a six pack of beer pinched in his fingers.

“Didn’t feel like cooking, I hope freezer pizza is okay,” he says, lifting a beer from the pack before stuffing the rest into the fridge. He grabs three slices, stacking them on each other, and sets them on a plate. Even though his tone is light, bags hang beneath his eyes.

“It’s fine.” I grab a slice and take a bite.

“How was practice?” he asks.

I forgo the information about Miss Riley and the man shouting at her by the car. If Miss Riley was in trouble, she’d ask for help. If something was up, she’d have called out or looked around in the parking lot.

“Fine,” I tell him, then I head down the hall to eat my pizza alone.

CHAPTER

TWENTY-SEVEN

“Where do you want it?”I ask, lifting my side of the six foot folding table. Hudson tips his head in the direction of the barn and starts heading that way.

“I figure the girls will make the most money if everyone stops by on their way in, so the market entrance it is,” he says, guiding us until we reach the flat spot of ground near the barn. We set the table down, and I go back for the box of linens and tabledecorations.

Ms. Leah Mitchell, the school principal, called Hudson last week asking if the girls could have a booth at the market to fundraise money for the entire football and cheer program. He of course said yes, and because he knows Jo Jo cheers, asked me if I’d like to help set up.

Setting up this table is about as close to knowing about Jolene’s cheerleading as I’m gonna get. I don’t mind helping though. Lord knows it beats sitting at home, wondering what Riley is thinking about all of this.

I haven’t texted or even tried to call her—and I haven’t heard anything from her, either. I’m paralyzed with indecision.

That morning that Jolene walked in on us was mortifying, but I got over the discomfort of her seeing the adult male side of me pretty quickly when I realized just how severely our actions impacted her most important relationship. The one she had with Miss Rivers.

I told her I wouldn’t see Miss Riley until she was ready to talk, but she hasn’t initiated anything since then. I don’t know what to do. Dr. Tanner took me yesterday in what I explained was an emergency appointment. He said I ought to have Riley over and the three of us should sit down and talk about what she saw, how Miss Riley and I feel for one another, and what the future holds. He said that speaking to Jo Jo as an adult is a large part of getting a good response out of her. Respect and communication is what she’s needing the most now, he’d said.

Still, I feel stuck.

I want Riley Rivers, and I want to be able to have that sit down and let it all out. The only thing is, Jo Jo walked in on us before we had any conversations about us. Riley and I have been circling each other for weeks, and what happened that night, I feel in my soul, was bound to happen betweenus. But I haven’t talked to her. So how can I tell that to Jo Jo when I don’t even know how or what Riley is feeling right now?

“Got a lot on your mind?” Hudson asks, taking the edge of the table cloth as we spread it out over the off-white colored plastic table.

I wave him off just as his wife saunters up, two glasses of colorful juice in her hands, slices of lemon garnishing each. Hudson stands, slipping his hat off as he presses a kiss to her cheek. “Hey, darlin’,” he greets as Dolly sets the glasses down on the table.

She loops her arms around his neck, and he scoops her up, careful not to jostle her pregnant belly. They kiss on the mouth, and it’s one of those loud wet ones that really belongs behind closed doors. I clear my throat as I root around in the box, pulling out weights for the table.

“Sorry,” Hudson says, putting her on her feet. “Did you make us some lemonade?”

She nods, and Hudson takes the glasses, passing me one. I don’t much like lemonade, but we’ve been out here working for an hour or so, and I could use a drink. I bring the glass to my lips before– thwack. Dolly slaps the glass out of my hand, sending sticky lemonade and chunks of ice scattering across the clean table cloth.

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