Page 15 of The Boyfriend Swap

Her face was hidden by her curly red hair, but I could tell from the tremor in her voice she was on the verge of tears. I pulled out a chair and said, “Here, sit,” before planting myself in a chair too. I pushed a strand of her hair away from her face. “What’s the matter with your throat, sweetie?” Her voice did have a distinctively hoarse quality to it.

“It’s sore,” she responded before staring at her shoes.

“Do you have a cold?” My first telltale sign I was coming down with something was a sore throat.

“I don’t think so,” Aimee replied as a fat tear dropped down her cheek.

I scooted my chair closer to her and studied her face. “Why not?”

“Because it’s hurt for a long time.” Aimee averted eye contact, now focusing on my currently empty walls rather than her shoes.

“What’s a long time?” To kids, three days was an eternity.

“Since the beginning of the school year. I didn’t want to say anything because I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to sing in the concert,” she said quickly before inhaling a huge gulp of air.

Even as I burst with pride at how much value Aimee placed on the school performances, my heart wrenched that she felt she needed to keep her pain a secret. And if she was fearful of missingoneconcert, how would she react if the entire music program was abolished?Don’t go there.I brushed the thought to the side. “Did you tell your parents?”

Aimee nodded, her teeth threatening to leave a permanent dent in her lips. “Yesterday.”

“What did they say?”

“I have to go to the EMT.”

Cocking my head to the side, I repeated, “EMT?”

“Uh-huh. The throat doctor.”

“Oh.” I smiled in amusement. “The ENT—ear, nose, and throat.”

Aimee frowned. “That’s what I said.”

There was no point in correcting her, so I nodded. “I understand you’re worried. Doctors are yucky, but they also have the power to make you feel better. I’m glad it’s out in the open.”

“What if he tells me I can never sing again?” she asked, her chin quivering.

I pushed my lips together. “I bet you overdid it with all the solos I gave you and your voice needs to rest a little. What better timing for a nap than winter vacation?”

Aimee looked at me with cautious hope. “You think?”

Nodding eagerly, I said, “Sure. So go easy on the Christmas carols, okay?”

Her face brightened. “Okay.”

I beamed at her. “Because I need you good and rested for the spring concert.”

“I’ll be ready.”

“Promise?” I extended my pinky toward her.

“Promise,” she said, entwining her pinky with mine.

I let go and stood up. “It’s settled then. Let’s get you to the auditorium with the others. Do you want me to walk you back?”

“No thanks, I’m fine.”

“Have a great Christmas, Aimee.”

“You too, Miss Lane,” she said with a wave before racing out of the room in much better spirits than she entered it.

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