Page 11 of Cole

“Take your stuff with you,” the teacher said.

Henry frowned as he picked up his book bag and walked to the teacher’s desk. “Am I in trouble?”

“No,” Mrs. Walsh assured. “I believe your father is here to pick you up.”

His father? Why would his dad come to get him before his first-period class?

Henry exited the classroom and walked down the wide hallway toward the front of the school. His mind raced with possible reasons why his dad was pulling him from school, but nothing seemed logical. Upon entering the office, a deputy stood at the front desk. Henry had met him a couple of times but didn’t know him very well.

Behind the counter, Ms. Jenkins glanced at Henry as he walked in. “Here he is now,” she told the deputy.

“Henry.” The deputy smiled. “You remember me? Deputy Roland?”

Henry nodded, confused.

“Your father asked me to pick you up and bring you home.”

“Why?” Henry frowned. “Is… is something wrong?”

“No, nothing like that,” Roland said. “He’ll explain when you get home.” He gestured toward the door. “Shall we?”

Henry followed the deputy out of the school to his Bronco, which was parked at the curb in front. Roland held the front passenger door open as Henry climbed inside.

“Is everything really okay?” Henry mumbled when they pulled away from the school.

“Absolutely.” Roland beamed. He was youthful—significantly younger than Henry’s father—and approachable. Henry found himself feeling more at ease with the deputy than with his own dad. “You don’t need to worry.”

“Okay,” Henry whispered and stared out the side passenger window.

“How are you doing?’ Roland asked quietly. “The Sheriff told me your best friend moved away, and you were bummed about it.”

Bummed about it. Henry wasn’t bummed—he wanted to die; it hurt so much. “Yeah,” he mumbled, not bothering to try to explain how he really felt. Adults didn’t understand. They didn’t take kids’ feelings seriously, as if they weren’t real or something.

“I get it,” Roland said. “I know it must hurt like hell. And to lose him so soon after your mom.” He shook his head sympathetically. “I’m very sorry.”

Henry didn’t want to think about his mom, especially now when he desperately needed someone to talk to who understood him.

“Your dad said the boy was… more than a friend?” The deputy sounded curious rather than disapproving.

Henry bit his lower lip and nodded.

“Your first love.” The man sighed. “That’s gotta be extra rough. Was your dad cool with you having a boyfriend?”

“I guess,” Henry whispered. He didn’t want to talk about Ezra.

“He didn’t seem critical when he told me. Though I think he worried the two of you were too serious for your ages.”

His throat working, Henry murmured, “We weren’t. I told my dad we weren’t… doing anything.”

“Was that true?”

“Yes. We just… we just liked being together and having fun.”

“Sounds like a healthy, wholesome relationship to me. I’m really sorry he moved away.”

Henry leaned his head against the passenger window, shutting his eyes. “Me, too,” he murmured with a quiver as a tear slid down his cheek.

“Well, if you ever want to talk to someone, you can talk to me,” Roland offered in a genuine tone. “I know sometimes it can be difficult talking to a parent. So, I mean, we can be friends, if you want.” He smiled small. “Just putting it out there.”

---