Page 57 of Hot Shot

“I’ll do my best.”

Classrooms are still bustling, getting settled from the commotion. The place smells like must and books with a hint of vegetable stew, same as it ever did. As I pass the library in the center of the giant H of hallways, I notice how tiny the bookshelves are—theymaybecome up to my armpits. But it looks so weird, a miniature of what I remember, with tiny little chairs around shin-high tables.

The first grade classes are down on the left, if memory serves. As I get closer, I hear her voice, and my heart skips in my ribcage at the sound. Her back is to the class as she writes on the white board, explaining about the various sounds the letter e makes. For a moment, I pause in the doorway, leaning on the frame.

Cricket is sitting near the front. She looks so small, smaller than even the other kids. Withdrawn. I wonder if she’s smiled since this morning. I wonder if the fire alarm scared her. But of course it did. The real question was how bad?

When Cass turns to her classroom, her eyes snap to mine, a smile blooming. “Hello, Captain Davenport. Thanks for your help today.”

The kids turn and light up. Cricket smiles.

I add it to the count.

“I had some Dum-Dums in the firetruck. Wondered if any of your kids might want one?” I hold up the bag and gave it a little shake.

They erupt just like I knew they would and Cass’s lips flatten, but they’re curled up at the ends. The kids are already climbing me for candy.

“Oh, I think you have a whole truckfullof Dum-Dums,” Cass says as she walks over, her arms folded to frame her tits in that mesmerizing white top she has on. God, how I’ve missed those tits.

“All right, hang on,” I say, laughing as I open the bag and kneel so they can see inside to pick. Cass shepherds Cricket around the side where the crowd is thinner. My daughter and I share a smile. I note that she picks a strawberry one, then listen as the kids share what flavor they got and why they got it and what their dad’s favorite flavor is and on and on. When the last kid has chosen, they officially scatter except for Cricket, who lingers.

I take her hand. “Hey.”

A halfhearted smile is all she can muster. “Hey.”

“You okay?”

She nods at her shoe as she toes a missing corner of tile.

“Wanna see something?”

Cricket meets my eyes, curious.

I shift, pulling the broken pencil out of my pocket. “Somebody stuck this in the fire alarm.”

She giggles at the mangled wood. “Really?”

“Yup. There was no fire, just somebody fooling around. Most alarms never have to be used for a real emergency. They’re there just in case. It’s their job to make sure you know in plenty of time so you can get to safety. So if you hear one, it’s a good thing. It means there’s time to get somewhere safe.”

She inspects the pencil and smiles. “Look how it’s busted. You can see inside!”

I chuckle. “Crazy, huh? Wanna keep it?”

Cricket nods again, her grin like a checkerboard. “Thanks, Wilder.”

“You’re welcome, Cricket.”

She bounds into the classroom to show the other kids the pencil, and all of them ooh and ahh with suckers hanging out of their mouths.

“Throw your wrappers away, please,” Cass says before turning to me with a small smile. “I’d thank you, but I’m pretty sure everything in the classroom is going to be sticky now.”

“Need me to stay after school and clean up after myself? I can bang erasers too. If you need credentials, you can ask Mrs. Apple.”

She still has sass all over her, but her smile widens. “Sadly, we only have whiteboards or I might take you up on that. Thanks, Wilder.”

For a moment, we hesitate before she turns for her classroom, but I grab her wrist. Her pulse flutters under my fingertips.

She looks up at me with emerald eyes, and I almost forget anyone’s around.

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