Page 120 of Tasting Fire
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Career dayat Steele Ridge High School.
Carrying a bag with a defibrillator and an intubation kit, Emmy entered the school’s vestibule. A door on the right had a sign on it that said “SRISD staff only,” so she pushed through a set of glass doors to enter the lobby. Immediately in front of her was a security guard and metal detector.
It made Emmy sad, but more and more schools were installing them.
She chatted with the guard as he looked through her bag and waved her through the detector.
When she’d been a student here, there hadn’t been any security, and it had been named Canyon Ridge, but not much else had changed. Someone had slapped on a clean coat of paint the color of bleached-out bones, but the floors were still covered with mottled industrial tiles that probably contained asbestos. She was surprised Jonah Steele hadn’t created a grant that would allow for a complete renovation.
Above the lobby, student-produced artwork hung from fishing line. Pictures of the French and Mexican armies in battle and quilted Mexican flags swayed in the breeze from the doors opening and closing. Looked like the art department was doing a unit on Cinco de Mayo.
Just ahead were the doors to the main auditorium, but Emmy hooked a right to enter the main office through the visitor entrance. A receptionist sat behind a chest-high wraparound desk. The phones were silent, but she was tapping away at her computer like a demon.
While she was otherwise occupied, Emmy wrote her name, reason for visiting, and the current time on a sign-in sheet secured to a clipboard. Finally, the receptionist paused and looked up at her. “You would think silent phones are a good thing, but some of these parents start e-mailing at two in the morning. At least fifty of them by the time I walk in each morning.”
“I’m… sorry?”
“And some of them come from accounts like jacob rules at gmail dot com. Then they only mention that Jake is sick and will be out today. Do you know how many Jakes are in this high school?”
“A lot?”
“Eleven.”
Wow. Note to self: Scratch Jacob from future baby names.
“I’m Emmy McKay, and I’m here to participate in career day.”
The receptionist looked up at the round-faced clock on the wall. “Hm… Career day?”
“I’m supposed to meet Mrs. Southerland.” Emmy had been surprised that she’d extended the invitation, but pleased because she wanted to mend fences with the woman for Cash’s sake.
“She just stepped out a few minutes ago, but you can probably find her in the auditorium.”
“Great. Thanks.”
“Hey, hang on. You need a guest badge. Stand right there.”
The receptionist quickly snapped a picture with her cell phone and clicked a couple of keys on her computer. Seconds later, a piece of paper rolled off the printer. She cut it down and slipped it inside a plastic name badge attached to a lanyard. She passed it to Emmy. “Now you’re all set.”
“You’re going to be a busy woman today.”
“If it’s a school day, then I’m busy today.” But she smiled when she said it, showing Emmy that as nutty as it was to work in the school office, she obviously loved it. “Just bring that back and sign out before you leave.”
“Sure thing.”
Outside the office, the scent of chicken-fried steak and green beans came wafting from the cafeteria.
Chicken-fried steak and sweaty sneakers. Those smells definitely took Emmy back to the days when she and Cash were students here. Of course, he’d been one of the popular crowd. She, on the other hand, had been voted most likely to be buried alive under a pile of books.
And yet he’d seen her as something more than a smart nerd. He’d seen the Emmy McKay who wanted to be liked. Who wanted to be kissed.
For weeks after they started dating, girls from the cheerleading squad had quietly stalked Emmy and fueled her doubts about a girl like her snagging a guy like Cash Kingston. They’d said things like “You know you’re a charity case, right?” and “He’s just using you to pass his classes so he can play football,” and “Cash will nail anything in panties.”
Once, he’d caught her fleeing the girls’ bathroom in tears and asked why she looked like she was being chased by a pack of hyenas. She shook her head and tried to pull away, but when Mandy Bledsoe and her mean girl posse strolled out with self-satisfied expressions on their faces, the one on Cash’s had turned thundercloud. He’d informed the trio of cheerleaders that if they came near his girlfriend again, he’d made sure their sponsor knew exactly what they got up to on the weekends.
Huh. Maybe he’d always had a little hardball in him. She just hadn’t seen it because he was so damn affable. So likable.
