by Cora Brent
“Breck!”
I couldn’t really see his face but I spotted the way he dropped the other guy’s hand like a hot potato. Brecken remained frozen for a second before lowering his head and slowly walking over. I thought I heard him hiss out a curse. The other guy seemed confused but followed.
Brecken stopped a few feet away and looked at me. He was so tall now. Strong too. Sometimes I had to remind myself that he was no longer the scrawny kid who used to chase after me, begging to be included in everything I did.
“Tristan,” he said. “I didn’t know you were going to be up here.”
“Then my record is intact. You’re the second brother I’ve surprised today.”
“You saw Curtis too?”
“Sure did. We hugged things out.”
Breck snorted. “Yeah right.”
“So you’re the mighty Tristan?” The other guy said, shooting a look at my brother. “Finally we meet. I’m David.”
“Hi David.” I shook his hand, wondering if I was supposed to know more about him than I did.
Brecken wasn’t volunteering anything. “I’ll catch you later, man,” he muttered to David and I didn’t miss the look of hurt that crossed the guy’s face.
“All right.” David took a step back and nodded to me. “I was glad to meet you, Tristan.”
“Same here,” I said, staring at my brother.
David walked away slowly, glancing over his shoulder now and then, before climbing into a compact car and driving away.
“Why’d you do that?” I asked Brecken.
He was annoyed. “What?”
“Brush him off like that just because I was here.”
He shrugged and looked away. “Why are you here?”
“I wanted to talk to you.”
“You could have called.”
“Yeah, I could have. Is David your boyfriend?”
Night had officially fallen and the corner streetlight kicked on. Brecken faced me and I could clearly see the wariness in his eyes.
“Is he?” I pressed.
Breck swallowed. “So what if he is?”
“Then you should say so.”
“We’ve been hanging out,” he said and he was defiant now, like he was daring me to have a problem.
“Why didn’t you tell him to stick around? Maybe we could have all gone out for pizza or something.”
He shook his head. “I work at a pizzeria. I get plenty of pizza.”
I didn’t understand his attitude and I wasn’t good at beating around the bush. “Goddamn it Brecken, be direct with me. What the hell did I do to piss you off?”
He sighed. “Nothing.” He hugged his arms across his broad chest yet seemed to become younger before my eyes, the unsure boy he used to be. “Look Tristan, you caught me off guard, that’s all. I didn’t know if you knew I was gay.”
Was he freaking kidding? “Fucking hell Breck, of course I knew that. I’ve known since you were a little kid.”
That shocked him. “You did? How?”
I took a step closer to him so we’d be eye to eye. “Because you’re my brother and I know who you are.”
He was silent, getting emotional and trying to hide it by looking at the traffic passing in the street. “Tristan, I don’t always know who you are.”
That was hard to hear even if it was the truth. For years I’d neglected my kid brother and now he wasn’t sure what to think of me.
“I’m your big brother,” I told him. “And I love you.”
He bent his head and breathed hard, crying now. “I love you too. And I’m afraid for you.”
“Don’t be.” I put my hand on the back of his neck and pulled him in for a hug. “Things are going to be different. You don’t need to worry about me. And I’ll always be here for you.”
Breck swiped at his face, embarrassed over his tears.
“So you’ve had your fill of pizza,” I said, trying to ease the heavy mood. “How about we go find a place that serves a decent cup of coffee and you can tell me all about David and anything else you want to talk about.”
He broke into a smile. “I’d like that.”
“My truck’s over there. By the way you’re stuck with me all night. Curtis invited me to sleep on the couch so you get to hear my snoring. But I’ll make it up to you by cooking omelets for breakfast.”
“Cadence said your omelets suck.”
“She was just trying to keep them all for herself.”
He laughed. “I like that, the way you two are together.”
“I like the way we are too.”
He paused by my truck. “So you really knew?” he asked with some shyness. “All these years?”
“Sure. I think my first clue was when I saw you making out with Zac Efron’s poster.”
He was outraged. “I never did!”
“Hell yes you did. What are getting all red-faced for? Zac Efron’s not bad. If I was gay I’d probably be all over that.”
Breck cracked up. “Get off it.”
“No, seriously. Now that I think of it your boyfriend back there kind of looks like him. So, good for you, bro.”
He shoved me hard. “You’re a dick.”
I grabbed him in a headlock and messed up his hair. Just because I could. He might be all grown up now but he was still my little brother. That would never change. Me and him and Curtis. The Mulligan brothers. My tribe, the gang I didn’t need to go searching for because it had always been right here.
After Breck and I bonded some more at an artsy coffee shop we returned to Curtis’s house and there, for the first time since I’d walked out on them years ago, the three Mulligan brothers spent the night under the same roof. All the missing pieces, scattered for so long, were finally back in place. We’d come full circle.
No, we were even better than that.
As I settled on the couch with the bedding Cassie had thoughtfully left in a neatly folded pile I dragged out my phone to shoot a message to Cadence.
Staying up here with the boys tonight. Coming home tomorrow.
My thumbs hovered over the keyboard screen as I debated what else to say, how to let her know that she was on my mind. Always. Constantly. Permanently.
Miss you like hell, schoolteacher.
An instant later I worried I’d sent the text too late, that she’d be sleeping now and the sound of an incoming message might wake her up. But ten seconds later her reply came through.
Miss you too, Mulligan.
I smiled, set the phone down and decided to get some sleep. Tomorrow I needed to start bright and early because I had things to do. Omelets to fry. A job to get. A girl to love.
Tomorrow I was going home where I belonged.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Cadence
The principal of Emblem High School was startled to find me camped out in front of the door of his office half an hour before the first bell was scheduled to ring.
“Ms. Gentry,” he said, voice raspy as usual like he’d yelled himself hoarse already even though it wasn’t seven am yet.
I’d been waiting in a hard backed chair that was posted in the hallway and now I got to my feet. “Good morning. I was hoping to have a word with you.”
He fumbled with a ring of keys and unlocked his door. “Did you make an appointment with the front office?”
“No.”
A frown. “I’d prefer it if you did.”
Remembering one of my mother’s favorite sayings about catching more flies with honey I turned on the charm. “I’m so sorry and I know you’re busy but if we could speak now I would really appreciate it.”
Bertram looked at me, perhaps mulling over Saturday night’s incident, which he must have witnessed unless he’d nodded off by the fire pit before Rod Ward provoked Tristan into a shouting match.
The man sighed. “Come on in.”
His office was an airless closet with no windows, an oversized desk and crowded bookshelves. I took a seat in one of the two uncomfortable looking c
hairs that faced his desk.
“What can I do for you, Ms. Gentry?” he said, clicking a pen as if he planned to take notes based on my answers.
I held his eye. “Please reinstate the dance and the other extracurricular activities.”
He was already shaking his head. “No, I’m afraid the decision has already been made. After all the recent fights and other incidents-“
“Which isn’t the fault of the vast majority of the kids so why punish them?”
He bristled. “It isn’t a punishment. It’s a safety measure.”
“That’s not how it feels to them.” I clasped my hands on his desk and leaned forward, hoping that behind his weary gaze was an educator who still gave a damn. “These kids need something more than safety measures. They need something to look forward to. They need to feel valued.”
Bertram set down his pen and tented his fingers while considering my words thoughtfully.
“I was like you once, an idealistic young teacher,” he said with a ghost of a smile as he reminisced about something inside his head. His smile faded. “Did anyone tell you that I knew your family? I was just starting out when your father and his brothers went to school here and I knew about them too, what kind of life they had. Yet like everyone else I steered clear of the Gentry boys. I was guilty of thinking the same thing as the rest of the school, that I just wanted them out of here, wanted to be done with them. I didn’t think much about what would happen to boys like that after they were shoved out into the world. I guess the consensus was they’d end up like their father.” He stared at me for a long moment, perhaps seeing traces of Cord Gentry. “I was wrong about them. And I’m glad I was wrong.”
I saw an opening and pushed. “At least think about giving the dance back. What kind of message are we sending if we just take everything away? That it doesn’t matter how hard they try or how far they come, that we’ll still eliminate the things they care about on a whim?”
“It’s hardly a whim,” he challenged with a sigh. “Do you know how tired I am of breaking up fights in the hallways? Of handing out suspensions that seem to make no difference? Of receiving calls from irate parents who want to know why we can’t manage to control our own students? Tell me something, Cadence Gentry. How would you be able to guarantee the safety of all our students at a chaotic event like the homecoming dance?”
“No one can guarantee anything,” I shot back hotly. “But I will happily volunteer to chaperone the dance and any other school events and so will many of your teachers. I spoke to Aura Campo last night and she could name at least ten teachers who would eagerly offer their time to help out.”
He didn’t shake his head and his refusal was more gentle this time. “I’m sorry but it’s too much of a risk. Perhaps next semester we can reconsider but right now we need to get a handle on the situation and it’s not like we’ll be receiving additional resources from the state. We have to make due with what we have and render decisions that are in the best interests of the kids.”
“What’s best for them, huh? What’s best for them is not turning their school into a damn prison.”
I bit my tongue. My temper had gotten the better of me and I’d gone too far.
Kevin Bertram blew out a breath and shifted his eyes to a small cheaply framed poster of a beach scene that was captioned ‘POTENTIAL: There is so much more beneath the surface than what you see.’
“I’ll take your opinion under advisement,” he said and reclaimed his pen, immediately scrawling something on a legal sized notepad.
I stood up because apparently the meeting was over. “Thank you for considering,” I said.
He nodded, still scribbling. He could have been composing a grocery list for all I knew.
“There’s one more thing,” I said and Betram raised his bloodshot eyes.
I took a breath. “Coach Ward. He needs to be investigated.”
Bertram was at full attention now, grocery list forgotten. “Do you have any specific information about Coach Ward you’d like to share?”
“You need to talk to the kids. Especially the football players. He’s mistreated his players in the past and I have reason to believe he’s still doing it.”
He pursed his lips. “Is this about what the Mulligan kid said at Aura Campo’s party?”
My protective instinct rose so fiercely I clenched my fist. “The Mulligan kid’s name is Tristan and he’s a grown man with no reason to lie about what Ward did to him five years ago.”
Bertram frowned. “You’re making a serious accusation.”
I remembered what I’d heard about Bertram and Ward being friendly. “It’s a serious matter.”
He nodded. “All right. I’ll look into it.”
“Good,” I said. “Because if you don’t I’ll make sure someone else does.”
I meant it and didn’t care if Bertram was offended but he chuckled lightly. “Can’t say I’m surprised to see that Cord Gentry’s daughter has a little fire in her.”
“Have a nice day,” I said sweetly and exited his office.
The hallways were now showing some signs of life as the first bell approached. I needed to return to my car to retrieve the supplies I’d bought for today’s lessons. On my way to the classroom I took the time to greet everyone I saw, pleased that I had come a long way in learning the kids’ names. Not all of them responded but most smiled back and I hoped that even the ones who didn’t answer were still glad to be acknowledged.
My first class of the day was also my most difficult, a room filled with ninth graders who were getting used to their surroundings and testing out their limits. They quieted down when I promised that I had a surprise for them today.
“Our lesson plan has been changed.”
I pulled out the contents of the shopping bags. Reams of loose leaf paper. Boxes of ballpoint pens.
“Instead we’re going to write letters.”
“Like real letters?” Amanda Carpenter wanted to know. “With pen and paper?”
“Real letters. Personal letters.”
A strident male voice from the back of the room. “Fucking letters to who? Santa Claus?”
A wave of laughter followed. I ignored it.
“To whoever you want. To your friends. To each other. To your parents. Maybe to someone you always wanted to talk to but never had the chance. Or perhaps to someone who could just use a little kindness. Let’s face it; this is a small town and we all hear the news when something happens. You could write to Nesto Rivera and tell him you’re sorry about what his family’s going through. You could write to Landon Gentry and say that you hope he returns to school soon. I’d be happy to deliver them if you don’t wish to do it yourself. You can even stay anonymous.”
“Gee, Ms. Gentry, if we do this do we get a Positivity Pass?”
Some open snickering. This I did not ignore.
I dug around in the pretty chevron patterned tote bag my mother had given me the day I moved to Emblem and I pulled out a stack of carefully cut yellow paper. I crumpled the stack in my hand and tossed it into the garbage can.
“There will be no more Positivity Passes. They were silly anyway.” I ripped open a package of paper, noting with satisfaction that I had the attention of every kid in the room as I began handing out supplies to each row. “Think of these letters as your custom made Positivity Passes. If you decide they are too personal for me to read then I’ll just check to make sure you’ve filled at least one side of the paper with your letter and you’ll get credit. But if you want me to read them then I’d love to. All I ask is that you think about the words you’re putting down and that you keep the tone…” I searched my brain for the right word and only came up with one. I smiled. “Positive.”
Some scattered grumbling remained but most of the kids seemed thoughtful when presented with a blank piece of paper and the novel concept of handwriting a real letter as opposed to tapping out an abbreviated text. I walked around the room, offering encouragement and answering questions here
and there. Some of them wanted to keep their letters to themselves but others were eager to let me read them. I considered it a small teacher world victory that they didn’t all jump up and leap for the door when the bell rang like they usually did.
In third period while a class of eleventh graders bent their heads over their letters I took note of the fact that Nesto was absent again. He might have had to take some time off because of all the recent tumult in his family but I was worried he’d fall behind.
“Bye, Ms. Gentry.”
“See you tomorrow, Ms. Gentry!”
My students called their goodbyes over their shoulders as they filed out of my classroom. This was my free period and I was preparing to eat lunch at my desk when a crackling sound came over the loudspeaker and Principal Bertram’s croaky voice greeted the school.
“Attention students and faculty. In light of new information the administration has reconsidered cancelling the homecoming dance. The dance will be held next month on its originally planned date. All other activities will be considered on a case by case basis so please check with your faculty adviser.”
I closed my eyes when I heard the cheers echoing from classrooms up and down the corridor. The triumph might be small by a lot of standards but today here in Emblem it felt titanic.
My chicken salad sandwich was rather limp but I ate it anyway and stared at last night’s text exchange while I chewed.
Miss you like hell, schoolteacher.
Miss you too, Mulligan.
The last few nights I’d tossed and turned, having already grown used to the feel of Tristan’s arms around me as I slept. I missed him. I craved him. I needed him. I worried about him.
I love him.
I couldn’t stop feeling this way any more than I could stop the sun from blazing over the desert.
Five seconds after the last bell rang my phone buzzed and I grabbed it with a smile, expecting Tristan. It wasn’t Tristan.
“Guess who just landed in Arizona?” said a voice I used to hear every day.
