by CJ Daly
I couldn’t believe Andrew was okay with this. Apparently neither could
Mikey, because he looked up from licking peanut butter from a celery stalk.
“You don’t weally wanna go to that school away from me and Kadee, do you
Drewy?” Tears glistened in his eyes.
Andrew’s silence was louder than words. That sinking-sand feeling in my
• 178 •
gut began weighing me down, so I sank to the floor, pulling Andrew down with me. “Drews, please—I’m sorry about the no fun. I’m gonna work on
that.” He shot me a scathing look. “I will,” I assured him. “You’re right . . .
I did say you could ride in Pete’s Hummer, and I’ll let y’all tomorrow.” My
other arm nabbed Mikey, corralling him into the fold. “I promise. Just please
promise me that you will continue not gettin’ everything right on the tests.
That’s real important . . . and don’t act like everything’s so easy for you either.”
I pleaded with a set face. “Please Drewy . . . for me. Okay?” I forced a hug out of him. “You have to trust me—I only have your best interests at heart.”
Andrew pulled away. “So does Pete! He goes to that school, and he’s
awesome and cool and, and just like me. You just don’t like him for some
reason.”
“That’s not true.”
“Is too! I can tell.”
I sighed. “Look, it’s complicated okay. I do like Pete . . . maybe a little
bit too much,” I admitted. “I just don’t want us to get caught up in all the
excitement surrounding Pete, so that it clouds our judgment about the school.
That academy is not the right place for you, Drews. And Pete is not the same as the school. And don’t forget he’ll be graduatin’ this year, so you probably
won’t even see him again.”
I immediately saw this was the wrong thing to say. The tears that Andrew
had been withholding began spilling over.
“That’s not true!” He shoved the felled chair, so that it skidded over and
thunked into the table leg. I mentally rearranged furniture, rotating sides to
see if I could prevent Daddy from seeing the latest dent.
“See!” he raged. “You don’t know anything about it! Pete said if I was
accepted, he’d teach me how to dive off the high-dive. How could he do that
if he’s not plannin’ on bein’ there?”
A flash of anger at Pete darted through me for making empty promises
to a young boy starving for adventure and male-bonding. Mikey stared at us
wide-eyed, fat tears sliding over his roly-poly cheeks. He was way too young
for this. Taking his hand and plate of cookies, I steered him toward the couch.
“Mikey, go eat your dessert in the livin’ room.”
“But why?”
“Because I said so,” I said, stealing my father’s line. “And you can also
turn on the TV.”
“But Daddy says no eatin’ in the livin’ room and no TV when he’s not
home to monitor us.”
“Well Daddy’s not here is he?”
• 179 •
Mikey looked from me to Andrew and huffed out some outrage. “Fine!”
He snatched his cookies and tromped away. About midway to where the juice
stain ringed the couch like a socked-eye, he whirled back around. “But no
more fightin’!” he yelled so hard veins popped out on his face, and wafers
scattered from his plate like they were scared.
All the anger drained from my body like someone had pulled a plug.
Andrew also seemed to soften, yielding against me into a hug.
“I’m really sorry, Drews,” I said.
“Me too, Katie . . . I just really like Pete and wish you didn’t hate him
so much.”
I took a deep breath, debating how much to divulge to an eight-year-old.
“I don’t hate Pete. As a matter of fact, I probably like him as much as you.”
Andrew pulled a face. “You don’t act like it. You’re totally mean to him
for no reason at all. Like you said—he’s not the same as the school. And he really, really likes you. I can tell.”
A wave of warmth washed over me. It seemed like my mind was constantly
fighting with my body these days. I was only human—any girl would feel
like they were lying on a beach under sunny skies if they found out a guy like
Pete Davenport liked them.
“I told you . . . it’s complicated.”
Andrew folded his arms, his head cocking to the side. “Complicated
how?” When I didn’t immediately respond he said, “And anyway, I like
complicated things.”
I saw my opening. “Maybe you can help me figure something out.”
“Like what?”
“Like how Pete knows so much about me,” I probed and watched as
Andrew’s eyes hit floor. “You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”
He looked a little sheepish. “Okay, fine—Pete told me he was gonna take
you on a picnic, so he asked me what kinds of food you like.”
A small sliver of light infiltrated my dark mood. “Really?”
“Yeah . . . so I told him. That’s okay, right?”
“Sure. That’s fine. Just don’t let on that you’re throwin’ some of the test
results.”
“So you do like Pete?” His deflection didn’t go unnoticed.
“I said I did.” I rose to my feet, doing my own deflection with some
cleaning detail.
“Do you like him like a friend, or . . . like a boyfriend?” Andrew peeked
up at me through his lashes, turning pink around the ears.
“Just a friend for now,” I hedged. “We’ve only just met, remember?”
• 180 •
“But could you see yourself likin’ him as a boyfriend?” he persisted.
I felt my own ears burn. “Well, aren’t you the little fact finder.”
“I like to deal with facts and probabilities,” he informed me, sounding
more like a statistician than a third-grader.
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah. Since it’s now a fact that you like him—and he likes you—then
the probability that he’ll be around more often increases exponentially!”
I huffed out a chuckle. “Wow! I gotta say it, Drews: you’re quite the
whiz kid.”
He beamed like the star he was. “Now will you think about lettin’ me go
to The Academy?”
“I don’t know . . . we gotta find out a lot more about the school besides
the fact that Cadet Davenport goes there.”
He threw his hands up. “What else is there to know?”
I sighed, picked up the toppled-over chair, and sat down. “Listen,” I said
taking his hand as if needing contact to convey the force of my convictions. “I
know better than anybody how easy it is to get caught up in Pete’s easy charm.
However, I also met another . . .”—I grimaced at the memory—“IEA cadet.”
“You did? When?”
“That’s not important right now. It’s already past bedtime, so really
listen.” My eyes bored into his. “The best thing I can say about Pete’s friend
is he’s not as nice as Pete.”
“What’s that got to do with anything?” He broke from my grasp again.
“There’s good guys and bad guys everywhere—probably even church.”
“You know how I get strong feelin’s about things?” Andrew’s open face
was beginning to close, so I explained, “Mama called it my sixth sense,
“You mean like how sharks have an extra sense that allows them to feel
electricity emitted from other animals from far away?”
“Yes, exactly like that,” I agreed. “Only I sense certain things about
people—whether they’re tellin’ the truth for example, or if they have good or
bad intentions. And I’ve been gettin’ a bad feelin’ about this academy from
the very beginnin’.”
I could almost see the levers and pulleys of his mind working together
to process this new information. “But I thought you only got feelings about
people, not places,” he said, finding the hole in my argument.
“Well, it’s sometimes a feelin’ about things. Like it can be as simple as a
test question. I’m not as smart as you, Drews, but I’m a really good test taker.
• 181 •
And I think it has to do with my ability. Somehow . . . I can just intuit the right answer, even if I can’t figure it out.”
“So you’re like cheating.”
I exhaled the last of my patience. “Andrew, I think you’re missin’ the
point here. I have a sort of . . . ability that sometimes gives me very powerful
feelin’s. And I’m gettin’ a powerful one that’s tellin’ me Pete’s academy is bad.”
“That’s it,” he scoffed. “A strong feeling? That’s not dealin’ with facts and
probabilities—that’s pure conjecture.”
“I know it sounds like a lot of hocus-pocus, but sometimes there are things
that even science can’t explain.” My brainiac brother still looked unconvinced,
so I explained using evidence I knew he needed. “Remember when Mama
first got sick?” Andrew allowed a cursory nod. “Well, I knew. Right away.”
“Knew what?”
I was a dark quiet, remembering. “That . . . she wasn’t gonna get better.”
“She had cancer, Katie . . . It’s kinda hard to get better from cancer when you don’t even go to the hospital!” Andrew’s words flew from his mouth like
trapped crows from a cage.
I gripped his hands tightly, locking eyes again. “Right away, Andrew.
I knew the very second she told us she was sick that she was gonna die.
Remember how I ran out of the house cryin’?”
“Yeah. Mama sent me to go find you.”
“Do you remember what you said to me when you found me? You were
only about five, so you might not remember. You said I was the one that
looked sick. You weren’t worried, because Mama didn’t even look sick at
all. Then you noticed that I smelled sick, too. That’s because the feelin’ was so strong, it literally made me sick to my stomach. I ran outside and threw
up—and that’s the way I feel now about that academy.”
It was a few beats before he spoke. “Do you get a bad feelin’ about Pete?”
I waited another beat then said, “That’s where it gets complicated for me.”
“How? Either you get a bad feelin’ about him or you don’t.”
I was still mulling over how I could convey my absolute convictions
about Pete’s academy, and my less-than absolute convictions about Pete,
without losing credibility. Andrew could be too smart for his own good. And
depending solely upon facts as scientific types tend to, could lead him down
a wrong path. How did I feel? That Pete was essentially good, but involved neck-deep in bad.
Andrew filled up the pause. “Cause if you get the feelin’ that Pete’s bad . . .
then I don’t believe you anymore,” he said levelly. “Cause I know he’s not.”
I nodded noncommittally. Even though Andrew confirmed Pete had
• 182 •
been asking questions about me, there was still something off about it. My gut was telling me Pete was lying—I just couldn’t put my finger on what he
was lying about.
“Did Pete ask you what my middle name is?”
“That doesn’t mean he’s bad just cause he asked a bunch of questions
about you! He only wants to get to know you better. He even told me that.”
“Just answer the question, Drew.”
“No,” he admitted, looking like he’d just tattled on the cool kid.
“Well he knew what it was, and I didn’t tell him.”
“It was probably Daddy,” he reasoned. “They had a big meetin’ you know.
He filled out a lot of paperwork about our family history. It was probably just
one of the questions.”
I nodded. I’d already considered that, but the casual way in which Pete
dropped it suggested more than a cursory glance at paperwork.
“Aren’t you satisfied now that you know he was askin’ questions about
you?” Somehow, I felt more pensive than relieved and it must’ve shown
because Andrew said, “Gosh! You act more like he’s a secret agent and not
just a super-cool guy that likes you.”
“Is that fact or conjecture?” I teased.
“That’s a fact.”
“Okay fine . . . you’ve convinced me with your facts for now.”
“So you’ve changed your mind about Pete?”
“For the time bein’,” I ceded, pulling him into a hug. “But I want you to
know I still know that academy is not the right place for you.”
He looked up, exasperated. “Is that a fact?”
I laughed, feeling a truce in the air. “Yes, that’s a fact . . . Any school that takes you away from us is not the right one.”
• 183 •
18
BACK ON
My alarm went off before the dawn cracked. This so I could head
back out to pasture to set the water to trickling into the tank
before heading back home to wake the boys. Daddy never made
it home last night—at least not before the witching hour. I knew this because
that’s about the time I gave up on him. So I’d had to reset the alarm to go do
the deed for him this morning. After factoring in the amount of stewing I did
all night about the cluster of problems that threatened to choke me daily, I’d
say I got about a solid, oh . . . four-five hours of shut-eye last night.
I yawned so hard through a red light, my jaw almost popped out of joint.
Then I almost caved and pulled over to Clovis’ one and only coffee house to
help myself to some fancy three-dollar coffee. Unfortunately, I was running
short on both time and money so resisted the urge for caffeine and sugar my
body so desperately craved. So I rolled up to school bleary-eyed, confused, and
weary of fighting off all the demons knocking at my door these days. And late.
When I fell out of my car, Pete was leaning against his truck a few spaces away.
I almost walked right past him (which was a testament to how tired I really
was because the guy literally made me weak in the knees everytime I saw him).
“Cutting it kind of close today, aren’t you, Connelly?” He fell into step
beside me.
I kind of growled out a half-ass acknowledgement.
“Don’t tell me . . .”—one side of his cheek lifted—”you’re not talking to
me today?”
“Not really talkin’ ‘tall,” I mumbled.
“Well good. Since you’re not talking today, I’ll be glad to do all the talking
for you.” I spared him a side-glance, and he flashed his teeth at me. “See, every
• 184 •
time you talk, it’s to accuse me of lying or spying . . . or something scandalous.
I have to say—I’
m a little flattered you see me in such a glamorous light.”
I managed to arch an eyebrow at him.
“Here, let me take that,” he said, relieving me of my backpack. “Pardon
me saying so, Kate, but you look kind of dead on your feet this morning.”
“Hmmph.” I couldn’t even summon enough energy to be offended.
“Didn’t get much sleep last night?”
“Wow. Good-lookin’, a gentleman, and intuitive . . . you really are quite
the triple-threat, Cadet Davenport.”
He threw his head back and laughed, and I couldn’t help noticing how
the morning light haloed his hair. He looked like a photo-shopped ad for
shampoo. Gah! He really was impossible to resist. I felt myself melting already.
“Now there’s the Kate I know and love . . . What happened to mute girl?”
“What can I say?—you know how to push my buttons.”
His eyes lit up. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
My insides were about the same consistency as room-temperature butter
as we loitered on the front steps of the school, staring at each other. The
sidewalks were pretty clear because the warning bell had already rung, which
meant we’d both be tardy for first-hour. Hard to tell which one of us cared
less.His eyes started doing that smoldering thing again. I closed my eyes and
fought the urge to lean against him and just breathe. It would, I thought, be
a little like heaven on earth. I must’ve started to sway, because Pete caught
me by my shoulders.
“Hey. You okay?”
“Um . . . yes?”
As if from some mental guidance from me, he dropped our backpacks
and reached for me. For once, I didn’t hesitate. I wanted to lean on somebody
stronger than me. I wanted him to infuse me with strength, to fill in all the
holes that riddled me with doubt and zapped my confidence, as crazy as
that sounded. I’d never bought into the idea that having a guy makes you
complete. But that’s exactly how I felt in that moment—complete.
So instead of fighting my body’s urges, as was so long the norm for
me, I yielded to them. And to him. It was like two pieces of a jigsaw puzzle
fitting together exactly right—his arms wrapped around my waist, my head
tucked under his chin, his chin on my head. The steady rhythm of his heart
was soothing to my frazzled nerves. I breathed in the heady masculine scent
