Page 11 of Please, Sir

My mouth is suddenly dry, but I lick my lips. “Jo Jo Turner.”

Leah lifts her head off the chair just to throw it back, slamming her eyes closed dramatically. “Uhhh, shiiiiit,” she groans, clutching the arms of her chair. She even stomps in one of her stilettos.

“What? What does that mean?” I edge closer to her desk, my nosy mind spinning out of control, my eager heart racing. I want something good for this kid. She’s sweet, and I don’t know why but I relate to her somehow. “I really like the girl.” I’m almost scared to know now.

Did her father murder her mother and he’s in prison and Jo Jo is being raised by an evil old woman who forces her to eat cold soup and scrub the floors? Or did Jo Jo’s mom die of some long, drawn out illness leaving her father permanently heartbroken, staring out a foggy window, never to speak again? Jo Jo, poor sweet Jo Jo. My mind runs way too wild with terrible possibilities.

Leah sits up, and places her hands palm-down on her desk, leveling an intense gaze at me.

“Leah, if you do not spit it out?—”

“Her dad is quite possibly the hottest cowboy in Bluebell.” She closes her eyes and shakes her head like she’s in a deep prayer. “Such a piece of ass.”

My jaw drops to the floor, I swear. I slap my hand to my chest in shock. And… Why am I slightly annoyed that Leah knows Jo Jo’s dad is hot and I don’t? One conversation doesn’t mean I should know more about Jo Jo’s life than Leah, who has seen Jo Jo grow up in Bluebell over the years. Still, a touch of annoyance slides down my spine.

“Leah!” I chide.

She shrugs. “What? It’s just us.” She lifts her brows, nodding silently for a moment. “He’s absolutely gorgeous.”

My heart is racing, but I remember what sparked my interest in Jo Jo in the first place. “What happened to her mom?” I ask.

Leah sits taller, and grows serious. “Janie Turner,” she sighs, “that was sad.”

I knead my neck, suddenly finding my skin hot.

“Jo Jo didn’t tell me anything except that her mom died when she was four,” I say, feeling like in this heavy moment I should say something, contribute somehow instead of just sitting there hungrily, lapping up the pieces of this sweet girl’s tragic life.

“She flipped her car on some black ice, and spun off-road. She… was pinned inside. No one found her until it was too late.” She gets lost in thought a moment, and my heart aches at the loss this family has endured. What they went through.

“Ten years ago we didn’t have tracking in everything the way we do now. There was some trouble finding her,” Leah adds, her voice softening, spreading thin, as if to make room for the heaviness to come. “Rescuers searched for her on foot for five days without a wink of sleep. Then… they found her.”

I bring my hands to my face, and cup them over my mouth to absorb the sharp tug of my breath. “My God,” I breathe, pulse racing, ears ringing. Poor Jo Jo.

Leah sighs, I think because she’s trying to put distance between today and the memory of what happened to Janie. “I taught her, you know, when I taught fifth grade, before this,” she says, pointing to her desk, alluding to her position as principal. “She was very smart. Quiet, sweet.” Leah falls back against her chair, her eyes on me. “And aside from knowing that Jake Turner is absolutely gorgeous, that’s all I got.”

A student barges into Leah’s office, bumping me forward. “I’d better let you get to it,” I tell Leah, ducking out of her office to high tail it to the gym for practice.

The girls do good.They’ve clearly been practicing their routine, and after some much needed talk about attitude, things looked pretty good for just a handful of weeks into practice. Tryouts are in a few days now, and they’re ready.

I overheard Alexa teasing Jo Jo, and saw her clam up and shut down.

When I get in my car to go home, I know I am going to be thinking about Janie, Jake and Jo Jo Turner the entire night.

As much as I hate to say and as guilty as it makes me feel, thinking about them takes the focus off of my family, and all of our issues.

And I need that.

After all, if my family had any respect for me, I wouldn’t even be in Bluebell.

CHAPTER

FOUR

I don’t knowwhy I started this conversation, I really do not. I poked the bear. I knew better but I did it anyway. I’m so sorry for trying to understand her.How dare I.

“I just… I’m tryin’ to understand, is all,” I tell Jo Jo, who is currently slamming around things in the kitchen like she’s killin’ spiders.

With a dish in one hand and a spoon in theother, she turns to face me, her cheeks flared with anger. My heart gains another crack at the sight of her unbridled rage. Rage directed toward me.

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