Light Unshaken (Unveiled #2)

by Crystal Walton

  The stoic tone in his response couldn’t compensate for the energy flowing back to his eyes with a glimmer of hope that few, I guessed, took the time to notice. And in an unguarded moment, I saw past the mask of a reputation. Past my own assumptions. Same as most of the kids here, Dee likely didn’t have anybody in his life to help him see his potential.

  A pang of reproach for how I’d treated him clipped into my side. He probably came to the center looking for help, acceptance. And instead, I’d accused him. No wonder he said he was making a mistake being here. A mistake in hoping we’d be different from what he was used to.

  My heart winced. I swallowed and reached for his textbook before my response showed. “Let’s just go over a few of these grammatical changes I made.”

  Arms flailing, he scrambled to intercept the textbook. A piece of paper that looked like it’d been torn from a sketchpad tumbled out of the book’s cover. Dee snatched it, nearly crumbled it into a ball, and shoved it inside his book bag.

  “Was that a picture of the basketball court out back?”

  Dee tossed his bag underneath his desk and kicked it against the wall. “It’s nothing.”

  “O-kay.”

  Whatever minuscule opening I’d gained, I lost in a matter of seconds.

  With a quick scan through the table of contents, I noted a handful of page numbers. “Here. Why don’t you review these sections and try revising a few of these sentences.” My chair legs scraped against the tile. “Let one of us know if you have any questions, okay?”

  Dee’s head twitched in a nod.

  Leaving him to it, I made my way to the door. Trey and Mr. Brake had already slipped out. I stopped over the threshold and peered behind me at the room full of kids who’d captured my heart and given me purpose these last several months. Seeing Dee seated among them took Trey’s maxim to a completely new level. Perspective. One that’d stretch me in ways Trey probably knew I needed.

  Glad one of us had faith in me.

  Still shaking my head, I returned to my work in the office. The guys weren’t there either. It sounded like the rain had stopped. Maybe they were out back.

  In the quiet, I jotted down some voice messages I’d missed. Trey came through the front door right as I was leaving them on his desk.

  “Is Mr. Brake still here?”

  Trey pointed behind him. “Just walked him out.”

  “Everything good?”

  An ambivalent shrug answered for him. Probably too soon to tell. Not that it swayed Trey’s hope. Just like the kids’ backgrounds didn’t sway his belief in their futures. Good thing he ran the place instead of me. If I gained even half his power of perspective while working here, it’d change my life.

  I pulled my lip to the side and stared at my feet. “I’m sorry for earlier. The way I acted with Dee.”

  Trey leaned his shoulder into mine. “I know what you must be thinking, but I wouldn’t have let him in if I thought there were any chance he’d try to hurt you.”

  He looked behind him toward the sound of kids stirring in the other room, each with a story as unique as the next. Seen through Trey’s eyes of unconditional acceptance, Dee was no exception. After the glimpse I caught a few minutes ago, he was probably right.

  “What do you know about him?”

  He released a sigh. “Diego Mendierez. Pops bailed on him when he was two. Mom’s a struggling single parent. Kid turned to the wrong crowd.” Trey shook his head. The pain of recurring circumstances creased his face.

  “I can tell you one thing. That boy’s got some guts coming here. Tito ain’t gonna give up one of his crew members easily. First Dee dips on him, then shows up here. Not gonna go over so well.”

  “And why exactly is he here again?”

  My uncertainty didn’t faze Trey in the least. His smile held the same sense of fatherhood I’d seen guide his actions time and again. “I think he’s searching for something he’s been needing for a very long time. Hope.”

  “He’s lucky you’re equipped for the task.”

  Trey laughed a low, telling laugh. I didn’t want to ask what he was thinking.

  A swarm of kids filtered through the office. Some raced toward the basketball court. Others headed home for the day. A. J. trailed at the end of the group. “I’ll meet you out front in two,” he called to me from above the clamor of conversations.

  The screen door swung behind him and blew a look of exhaustion over Trey’s face.

  I crossed the room. “I don’t know how you do it.”

  “You and me both. I’ll tell you this much. I couldn’t do it without people like you.”

  He’d likely change his mind about that once he saw the voicemail message from our landlord that I left on his desk along with this past month’s bank reconciliation.

  Sure enough, after glancing over the note, Trey eased off his square-shaped glasses and squeezed his forehead.

  I tugged on the door. Each creak clothes-pinned my heart in a squeeze of its own. Leaving the door halfway closed, I turned. “Do you think things went okay with Mr. Brake?”

  Trey’s chair squeaked backward. He fit his glasses over an ear at a time. “Well, it was certainly . . . eventful.”

  Eventful? “Does that mean we passed inspection?”

  His gaze drifted to the basketball court. “There’s always hope, kid.”

  Especially when it was all we had.

  He nodded at the door. “I’ll fill you in later. But don’t worry. All they’ll have to do is take one look at the difference you’re making here, and they’ll sign on.”

  “The difference we’re making.”

  One of our seven-year-old girls snuck in the back door and ran across the office, beaded braids flapping as she went. “I forgot to give Miss E a hug goodbye.” She whirled her skinny arms around my neck.

  Trey shot me a pointed look. “You were saying?”

  I kissed her cheek and sent her off. “Yeah, yeah.”

  “Mm hmm. Now, go on and get outta here before you get sick of this place and stop coming.”

  “Never.” I winked at him on my way out.

  At the end of the walkway, someone stepped in front of me from around the corner. I jumped backward. My pulse jackhammered, then slowed. “Dee? What are you still doing here?”

  “Aw . . . I didn’t mean to scare you.” He scuffed his Nikes against the sidewalk, keeping his hands in his jacket pockets and his eyes on the pavement.

  I dragged the pearl along my necklace, not sure what to say.

  The same SUV from earlier zipped up to the curb. Did he forget something? Mr. Success circled around the front bumper. He stopped long enough for a judgmental glare to connect Dee to the graffiti left on the wall beside us and kept trucking for the door.

  Dee tipped his head at the bricks. “It wasn’t me. Not sayin’ I never tagged nothing. But not here.”

  The presumption in Mr. Brake’s eyes carved a hole in my gut with a reflection of how calloused I’d been before. “I shouldn’t have accused you.”

  He shrugged like it was nothing less than expected, and the ache in my chest widened.

  He hung his head so low, the front of his jacket muffled his voice. “I just wanted to say I’m sorry,” he said slowly. “You know, for that night. It was stupid. Tito can be a real a—”

  However forcefully the expletive entered his mind, he seemed to have enough restraint to stop from saying it in front of me.

  Of all moments, Jaycee’s sticky notes soared to mind. I rested my hand on Dee’s arm. “I forgi—”

  A. J. closed in from the opposite end of the walkway. Dee shot him a chin flick without any hint of fear or question. It wasn’t until his eyes met mine that they took on a look of perplexity. Was he so tormented by guilt that grace was harder to accept than judgment?

  Success Man hurried past us again with a folder in hand. His SUV pulled away from the curb and opened a view to Tito leaning against the building across the street. His stare nearly pinned me to the w
all with the same force his forearm had that night.

  He had some kid hovering at his side this time. Must’ve been his brother from the looks of it. What kind of person dragged an elementary kid into a gang?

  Tito flicked a cigarette on the ground and pushed off the bricks.

  On command, a bright green, lowered Mazda 6 with black rims crept out from a side street and tailed Mr. Brake’s SUV. They’d been staking out the place, following people who visited? No wonder they knew who our grant contacts were.

  Tito flaunted a dark grin as he strutted away, his brother on his heels.

  Dee flew around the corner, looking ready to chase him down.

  I ran after him. “Dee, wait.”

  He snatched a bike propped against the wall. A second after getting on it, he slammed his fist against the handlebars and huffed something in Spanish.

  I followed his eyes to slashed tires and bent rims.

  He shoved the whole thing into the building and strode down the street before I could utter a word.

  He couldn’t just leave. If Tito jacked up his bike, he could do worse to Dee. I started to go after him, but A. J. caught my hand. “Let him go.”

  The farther Dee strutted away, the farther the gap between us expanded. Trey was right. The kid needed hope. But if he really did pull out of Tito’s gang, what did that mean for him? For the center?

  chapter fifteen

  Rivalry

  Four days of cramming for my corporate finance exam hadn’t erased the mark Dee’s eyes left on my heart. Even a night out with my friends lacked the potential of curbing it.

  Jaycee opened her closet. “Have you told Riley about the assault yet?”

  I looked up from my desk. Where’d that come from? “I don’t want to bring it up.”

  She sifted through a row of hangers. “Have you thought about why that is?”

  Nothing like having my own personal shrink. “It doesn’t matter. It’s not like he’s here to do anything about it.” A resonance of bitterness ricocheted off the wall straight to my gut.

  Jaycee tugged a knit sweater over her head and smoothed out her hair. “Regardless, he’d want to know. If you lose honesty in your relationship, you lose everything.”

  I chucked a pencil into the crease of my textbook. “He doesn’t need me to be honest. He needs me to be strong.”

  She turned, hands falling from her ear. “Are you hearing yourself right now? He needs you to be real. You can’t hold things back from him, Em. It’s all or nothing. That’s how love goes. You know, the whole ‘for better or worse’ thing?”

  I twisted my engagement ring around my finger. “He’ll freak out if I tell him.”

  She finished clasping on an earring. “So, let him.”

  Head cocked, I gave her a look she flaunted right back.

  Why did she have to be so good at shining a light on areas I’d rather leave undisturbed?

  Leaning on my desk, I pushed up from my chair. “Okay, fine. I’ll tell him the next time he calls.”

  The florescent flyer on my dresser sent one source of dread chasing another. I lugged my favorite college hoodie over my head and glowered at Jaycee again. “I still can’t believe you’re making me go to the game tonight. I don’t even like football.”

  She dropped her cell on her dresser and stared at me, mouth slack. “Okay, first of all, that’s an abomination. And second of all, it’s not really about liking football. It’s about having school spirit and hanging out with your friends. It’ll be fun.”

  I straightened the front of my sweatshirt and pointed to the words, REED COLLEGE. “Ahem. Sporting school spirit right here, thank you very much.”

  Eyes rolling, she nudged me into the hallway. “Nice try.” She tossed me a pair of fleece gloves. “Here.”

  I looked up at her. “It’s September.”

  “The end of September.” She shrugged. “It might get cold after the sun goes down.”

  Perfect.

  I affixed a permanent smile on my face for her sake. And for Riley’s. He’d probably include attending football games as part of the “enjoy your senior year” plea he’d made me.

  “You better know how much I love you,” I said to Jaycee on our way down the staircase.

  Outside the door, Becky pounced on me with her usual bubbling-over cheer. A side braid bobbed against her shoulder as she curled an arm around mine. “Looks like the two of us have a date tonight.”

  A date? She motioned to A. J. and Ashlea standing face to face beside the curb. Right. That left Becky and me as the odd ones out of the group. At least it was better than being the only single one.

  She skipped down the walkway, tugging me along.

  Ashlea stroked her finger over the line painted down the middle of A. J.’s face—white on one side, maroon on the other. He could’ve passed for a warrior preparing for battle.

  Laughing, I spun in the opposite direction. Apparently, not fast enough.

  A. J. turned me back around. “What’s so funny?”

  Seeing him head on only made it worse. “Nothing. You just look . . . really . . . um, spirited.”

  Becky giggled.

  Ashlea butted between A. J. and me like a linebacker blocking him from an opponent. “He looks perfect.” She perched her nose in the air. “We’re playing our rival school, Emma. It wouldn’t hurt you to have a little more spirit yourself.”

  I pointed at my college sweatshirt again. Was I the only one who could read? Something covered the top of my head from behind.

  “She can borrow some of mine.” Trevor popped in front of me and flaunted a mischievous grin while straightening out what must’ve been a Reed College ball cap he was lending me for the evening.

  Offering me a furtive wink, he called behind him, “Looks like we’re ready now.” He draped his arm over my shoulders. “Come on, Cheer Captain. Let’s go show these punks what it means to ball on our turf.”

  I tugged on the bill of the hat as we walked. “Thanks. For a minute there, I thought you were going to give me a glow-in-the-dark necklace or something.”

  He tapped his coat, alluding to something hidden inside his pocket. “Have no fear. I wouldn’t dream of letting you down.”

  Ignoring him, I peeked over my shoulder and couldn’t help but laugh. We looked like a group of misfit soldiers marching into a battle zone with flaunted valor.

  The closer we got to the field, the louder the school band’s fight song blared from the stands. Our mascot danced along the edge of the track, cueing each section of fans for their turn to cheer. Flags and noisemakers circled above droves of maroon and white shirts and faces. The odor of greasy concessions and sweat blew in from the sports field to top it all off.

  “Jae, you’re seriously trying to kill me, aren’t you?”

  She slipped on her gloves. “Stop whining before we make you go dance with Griffin Boy over there.”

  Fat chance that was happening.

  With Trevor bulldozing a path through the crowd, we found an opening on one of the bleachers with enough space for us to fit as a group. Of course, that meant climbing over a couple of guys to get to it.

  The pair forced their legs to the side as we each squeezed by, apologizing profusely as we went. The burly one turned at the perfect moment. I tripped over his knees and grabbed his shoulders to keep from landing smack in his lap. He steadied me at the waist with two groping hands. A grin slanted beneath blond hair with more grease than the half-eaten hotdog beside him.

  I scurried into the empty seat and let the cold bleacher beneath my legs drain the heat from my face. A. J. sat next to me with Ashlea hovering closely on his other side.

  So much for Becky and I rallying together.

  I pulled my sweatshirt hood over my hat to blind my peripheral vision. If I could get into the game long enough to block out questions about Dee and thoughts of telling Riley the truth, maybe I’d stand a chance at enduring the night.

  Fifteen minutes of trying to follow the calls
from the field killed that possibility.

  A sideways glance caught A. J. demolishing a tub of popcorn. Attention fastened to the action, he sustained a continual circular motion from the bowl to his mouth.

  “You better slow down there before you wear out your bicep.” I pointed at the griffin still cheering on the crowd. “Never know, he might pick you to throw a pass at halftime.”

  Either A. J. didn’t hear me, or he was flat out ignoring me. Were we back to the cold shoulder thing again? Or was it because Ashlea was here?

  Without warning, something nailed me dead in the face. A single piece of popcorn bounced into my lap. “Cute.”

  “What?” He cupped his hand around his ear and chomped with extra gusto.

  I launched the rogue piece of popcorn back at him.

  He blocked it with his palm. “Oh, you don’t want to start this.”

  Before I could respond to the challenge, a handful of popcorn flew at me. It took me a second to shake the kernels from my hair and the stunned look from my face. I reached for two fistfuls from his tub. He pulled away, forcing me to climb over him to get to it.

  Ashlea blasted to her feet. “I’m going to get a soda.” She clambered over us, staring me down the entire way. Her silent scold edged me back into my designated seat.

  I slid my hands under my legs and gripped the ribbed bleacher. It seemed colder than when we first sat down.

  “So,” I said once she made it down the stairs. “You and Ashlea, huh?”

  A. J. scratched his chin. “Yeah, I’ve been meaning to have a talk with her about that.”

  “What do you mean?” I faced him, but his stare didn’t budge from the field.

  “Ashlea’s great. I just don’t think I can give her what she wants.” He set the popcorn tub down. “I’m not looking forward to having that conversation.”

  Couldn’t blame him. Especially after he’d been on the receiving end of a similar one last year.

  The reminder of that night in the gym when he told me he loved me pulsed from a scar that had never fully healed.

  “I’m sorry.” For so much.

  Letting out a low chuckle, he prodded me with his elbow. “At least we know there’ll be survivors, right?”