Page 123 of Hot Shot

“Maybe it’s worth considering private school for her. They could probably accommodate her better there,” Christine offers. “Or you could homeschool her.”

I blink, thinking the implications of that through. Is she suggesting that rather than address the conflict between Cricket and Avery, we should just leave? That we’re the problem? That I shouldquit? I can’t wrap my head around it. “What about my class?”

“You could always stay on until we find a replacement. Don’t let that factor into the best decision for your family.”

Something in the way she says it tells me this has nothing to do with my family.

“So, you all think she did it.” It’s not a question. No one but Christine will meet my eyes.

When she does, it’s her turn to sigh, her shoulders falling slightly. “Cassidy, I hate to admit this, but in the end, I’m afraid it doesn’t matter what we think. I’m not sure it even matters what actually happened. The only thing that does is what she tells her parents when they get here, and what they decide to do about it.”

I swallow, but my throat is clamped shut from raw frustration, rage, utter defeat. “I understand,” I manage to say.

“Go ahead back to your classes. We’ll call you down when we need you.”

We nod and walk out, though I share a look with Cricket that I pray is comforting before entering the hallway with Cheryl.

For a moment, we walk in silence.

“Well, what do you think?” I ask her, certain I don’t want to know.

After some consideration, she says, “I don’t think Cricket did it. But Christine is right—it doesn’t matter what we think. I’ve seen Avery do some cruel, vindictive things, but this…” Today is the day of sighs, and Cheryl offers hers. “You know, Mackinzie just cut her hair, and everyone’s been doting on her—the girls are best friends. I don’t know for sure what happened, but I could see Avery doing it and blaming someone else. That it was Cricket is just bad luck.”

I nod, numb as I walk into class. Molly has a hundred questions on her face, but I shake my head and she nods, squeezing my arm as she passes.

Cricket’s innocence doesn’t matter. Doing the right thing won’t save her. And whatever happens, whatever they decide, will potentially have a direct effect on me. I have no idea whatthey might do. Having met Avery and her mother, I cannot imagine it will be gentle.

And I am helpless in this fight.

The kids are buzzing, and I reach for the switch to flip, plastering on a smile for everyone else because that’s what my responsibility demands.

There’s nothing else I can do.

CHAPTER 45

DRIFT

WILDER

The station is quiet other than Tate’s soft snoring from his bed next to mine.

On the wall, the clock reads a little after three in the morning.

I’ve been staring at the ceiling since I lay down.

Yesterday was rough. When Cass and Cricket got home from school, Cricket launched herself at me and burst into tears. I carried her to the couch, her little body curling up in my lap, trembling with sobs after the mess at school. My guts are still twisted up about it. But in the moment, I didn’t know how to process the accusations, decipher the truth, and be there for her too. It took my whole brain and my whole heart and my whole, entire soul to get through it. I was so fucking mad at the unfairness of it all. So fucking hurt that she was hurting. And I had no idea what to do about any of it.

All she can do is the right thing, I told her. When I apologized, it wasn’t for the situation so much as it was for the world being what it is. I promised her it would be alright.

Thank God she didn’t ask me how because I had no idea.

I still don’t know. There aren’t enough options. Do I get involved or would that make it worse? Do I reach out to the girl’s family and try and smooth things over? Cass said that didn’t work before, and somehow I can’t imagine it would be helpful now, after this.

Cass doesn’t think Cricket chopped that little girl’s hair off, and judging by Cricket’s distress, I’m inclined to agree. When pressed, and sometimes unprompted, she always tells the truth. Given the pressure on Cricket, I think she’d crack. Instead, she broke.

When the Wilsons came to get her, I had a chance to talk to them about the details. This morning, they said she passed out in the truck on the way home and slept hard last night in their bed.

Cass was despondent, worried about Cricket and her job. The injustice ate at me, but I did my best not to react. I just held her and listened and watched her horny doctor show. When she initiated a little fooling around on the couch that turned into big fooling around in bed, I did everything I could to soothe her. Eventually, she fell asleep in my arms, but she never fully relaxed, her body strung tight.

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