Page 13 of Deeply Examined

Jessica: I thought Hawkins was on this week. That’s what the schedule says.

Wilson: Emily has to leave early to go to her second job.

“Who? Kent? The worst principal in the world? I can’t believe you used to go to school with him.” Monica’s voice comes through my phone, faint and echoing. I switch her to speaker mode so I can text and talk at the same time.

“Just for one year. He’s older than me, remember?”

“Proof older doesn’t necessarily mean wiser. What does that weasel want?” Monica hates my boss, even though she’s never met him.

“I have to cover crossing guard duty this week,” I reply, already dreading it.

Monica makes an indignant squawking sound. “Whyyou? Didn’t you freeze your ass off doing that last week?”

“Yes,” I groan, remembering how the fall leaves had swirled, whipped up by biting winds off nearby Lake Michigan. My nose had run like a faucet that day, and by the end my feet had gone numb. “Emily can’t do it. Something about her second job.”

“Tell him to suck it.”

From most people, this would be an empty threat, but not from Monica. She tells people to suck it all the time.

“I can’t. Someone has to keep the kids from getting mowed down. You wouldn’t believe how fast cars come around the corner.”

“That’shisproblem. Lethimstand out there in a reflective vest.”

My phone buzzes with another text from Wilson.

Wilson: So you’ll be there, right?

Jessica: Okay.

Wilson: Good. See you then.

I groan so loudly it echoes in my tiny apartment.

“Let me guess,” Monica says dryly. “He’s going to be there, too. Classic creep move.”

I sigh, flopping onto my couch with its flat cushions and the broken spring that pokes my butt. “Yep.”

“Iknewit!” Monica exclaims. “That ass-wipe is trying to spend more time with you. He’s probably sitting in his sad little office right now, planning which scarf he’ll wear to impress you.”

“Monica, stop.” I can’t help laughing.

“Don’t pretend it’s not true. He’s the kind of guy who’d buy extra hand warmers just to be nice and then lingers awkwardly while handing them over like you’re in a Hallmark movie.”

I laugh so hard I can barely breathe. “Okay, that’s way too accurate.”

“I’m just saying,” Monica adds, still smug. “Between Kent Wilson and Dr. Sexy, you’re living a realChoose Your Own Adventurenovel. And, girl, youbetterchoose wisely.”

I snort, relieved she’s not giving me one of her trademark lectures about standing up for myself. Just when I think I’ve escaped, she mutters a huffy, “You’re too nice. You know that, right?”

“I know,” I admit, rubbing a hand over my face, then hastily redirect the conversation. “Anyway, about the hot doctor. What do you think?”

I expect her to crack another joke, but instead, her voice softens. “Okay, seriously.” She hesitates, and there’s a thread of something new in her tone…concern, maybe. “Are you actually okay with everything? Like, for real.” A pause, as if she’s choosing her next words carefully. “I could prosecute this doctor. He’s crossed every line. I win malpractice cases like this all the time.”

I bolt upright on the couch, gripping my phone so tight my fingers ache. “Monica! Don’t you dare.” Heat floods my chest. The urge to defend Dr. West, to somehow protect him, rises in me, so strong, so primal, it shocks me.

This is why I didn’t tell her after the first exam. I was scared of the backlash. The judgment. I know most people wouldn’t think this was normal, that they’d call it inappropriate. But the truth is, I don’t care. Maybe I should but when I think about him—his eyes on me, his hands on my skin—I don’t feel ashamed.

I feelalive. More than I have in years.

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