Page 42 of Second Story

A little blond kid at this table eavesdrops. “You’re staying?” He’s happy about that. He also shoves an envelope Lenny’s way. “Quick. Put one of your pictures in here. Pick your best one.”

Lenny sniffs back tears, and if that isn’t a sign that Isaac’s done a fucking amazing job of working on his resilience, I don’t know what is. Yes, Lenny hasn’t said a word since leaving the library, but he is interested instead of withdrawn, and that’s half the battle won already. His raised eyebrows ask, “Why?” as clearly as if he’d said it.

“Because you haven’t put one in yet, but every Glynn Harber kid gets to.” His friend points to where children post their own envelopes, like Noah offered to do yesterday for Isaac, and that’s who my gaze snags on.

Across the courtyard, Noah frowns, as unhappy to see me as ever.

Or maybe him taking a few steps my way then backing off in a hurry means he’s conflicted, which I’d mention to Hugo if he weren’t busy leading Isaac away to make introductions.

Isaac looks back, eyes issuing a request I can read with zero trouble.

Don’t leave.

I didn’t want to the first time. Did it because I had to. Leave Lenny again now?

I won’t.

Not until it’s time to say goodbye to Cornwall.

12

JOE

I keep Lenny busy by looking through his drawings in the same scrapbook that Isaac flicked through while interviewing. Now I pause over pages he skipped over.

There’s a timetable in here, a schedule showing the work Isaac fit in around school drop-offs and pickups, no time off for good behaviour. Another page shows a shopping list of school uniform items that Lenny has grown out of. Christmas lists too. Another list details items to take on prison visits.

Lenny’s so proud of a pink drawing that he stops me from turning the page, and I take a guess. “Are they socks, mate?”

He nods. He also flashes a look at his tablemate, and I can guess why he doesn’t say this aloud but snatches up a crayon instead to print the wordCOLD. His lips move to sound out the letters, and it’s a reminder of a missing twelve months that I didn’t know how easily he could do that.

“Yeah, I see.” It guts me that he is seven but he already knows there’s no turning up the heat in prison if you feel chilly. “Fluffy socks are good for cold days.”

He shivers as if agreeing with me, and I hate that knowledge for him. And for his mum. What I hate more is that there’s nothing on these lists for Isaac.

I scan crowds who are here to celebrate potential futures and spot him. He can’t know that I’m watching. There’s no way he’d let me see that he has to steel himself before approaching Luke Lawson. That’s what I watch him do while straightening a tie he didn’t need me to knot for him today. He’s gathering his courage, I guess, to ask for what Lenny needs most.

Do it.

I get a perfect payoff for my staring: Luke Lawson lands a hand on Isaac’s shoulder and leans in to hear what has to be him asking for that trial spot.

Lenny regains my attention. He pulls at my sleeve and thrusts a Sharpie at me. His blond friend speaks for him. “Visitors can add a wish too. Everyone gets to plant one today. Our teacher said so.”

I keep my voice low like we’re sharing secrets. “Plant a wish. Like what? A seed? What’s gonna grow, Len?” I tickle his ribs. “More weeds like you?”

Lenny crumples into laughter, and yeah, Isaac is well and truly tuned into his brother’s wavelength—he cranes his neck to look for him, I assume, only his gaze lands on me, and for a first time, Isaac’s smile is pure summer.

Fuck me, I want to kiss him again. I would if we were alone. I want a repeat so much that I have to duck my head and get busy doing some scribbling of my own to keep from staring, but I can’t resist taking a second look, which means I have a ringside seat for this headmaster’s happy announcement of his new team member.

Applause echoes that Lenny’s tablemate joins in with. Lenny copies, and that’s who Isaac searches for this time, still grinning.

Once he’s given his brother a thumbs-up, his gaze lands on me again, triumphant, and that’s a first. It’s also a lot. I can’t look away until his brother tugs at my sleeve again.

“What do you need, Len?” The envelope he clutches is a clue. “You want to go plant your weedy seed?”

He cranes his neck in another action replay of his brother, and I take a guess at his hesitation.

“Only there’s too many people in the way?”

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