Page 5 of Wild About You
I push out into the freezing temp in my shorts and T-shirt. Without even realizing what I’ve done, I’m in my car and pulling out toward the school before she gets to the heart of why she’s called.
“Everly is fine, but we did have an incident this afternoon. Would you be able to stop in for a quick meeting?”
“On my way,” I clip. Silence hangs between us and I struggle to form the next words. “Should I be worried?”
“I think it would be better to talk in person. I’ll fill you in once you get here.”
We hang up, and I grip the steering wheel harder. I think maybe I was expecting the call all week. Everly isn’t a bad kid, I don’t think. She didn’t used to be anyway. We used to have a lot of fun together in the summers when I wasn’t playing hockey. We’d go to the lake or walk to the skate park to hang with friends. She was sassy but sweet, athletic and daring. She never cared much for authority, but we have that in common too. When your parents are unreliable, it’s easy to resent everyone who holds power over you because you know they might wield it to an unfair advantage or make promises they can’t deliver.
But I had a bad feeling about her starting school this week because in the month she’s been living with me, nothing has gone according to plan.
I don’t know if I’m happy that she’s screwed up and I can send her back to Mom, have my apartment and life back, or if I’m disappointed that she proved me right so quickly. Her failure suddenly feels very much likemyfailure.
I’m still mulling it over as I walk through the halls of Park Academy. My tennis shoes squeak on the waxed floors. My gaze lifts to the trophy case lining the walls on either side.
Swimming, cross country, lacrosse, golf, hockey—PA has it all. The banners and signs that hang on the walls and from the ceilings aren’t the kind that were made by students in art class, either. It’s all custom and a little sterile. As bullet points, this high school sounded like the perfect place for Ev but walking down the hall, I feel…out of place and my stomach sinks.
I lived away from home with a host family so I could play in the junior league my senior year. That place was rich, but Park Academy is on a whole other level. This isn’t what Everly is used to.
I wanted her to have every opportunity to turn things around, but I fear I might have sent her to rub elbows with rich kids that eat the poor for lunch.
I’ve met Coach’s wife a handful of times and she’s never given me that impression. Sure, the Millers have money, but they don’t flaunt it in that way that makes other people feel shitty for having less.
Maybe I’m sensitive to it. Even signing a million-dollar contract to play hockey hasn’t made me feel like I’m someone with money. Stupid, I know.
I pull open the heavy door with the words OFFICE printed across the frosted glass. A woman stands behind a desk, the kind that lifts and lowers so you can sit or stand behind it. The door beeps alerting her to my presence, and she smiles.
“Hello. Can I help you?”
I’m suddenly very aware that I’m in shorts and a sweaty tee. I’m sure other parents, not that that’s what I am, show up in far more formal attire. “I’m looking for Everly Kent.”
“Are you her…boyfriend?” Her dark brows rise above the thick framed glasses she wears.
I nearly choke on my own spit. “No. I’m her brother, Tyler Sharp. Mrs. Best called me.”
“Oh, of course, yes.” She comes around her desk. “Your sister is in the art room. Mrs. Best had to see to another emergency, but she should be right back.”
Another emergency? My pulse spikes.
“She’s with one of our teachers cleaning up the mess. I’ll let them know to come to the office now.”
The mess. Oh boy.What the hell did you do, Ev?
3
ADULTING REALLY SUCKS SOMETIMES
PIPER
I’mon day number five of molding young minds and ready to throw in the towel. Okay, not really, but I was not prepared. Every muscle hurts, not because I stood for a large portion of those five days, but because I was so nervous I clenched and tensed all week long.
For three and a half years I’ve been working toward this. What’s that saying about false hopes being more dangerous than fears? I challenge that person to stand in front of a class of high schoolers and say that with a straight face.
So many teenage boys made passes at me today I feel icky. And the girls? Wow, either I’ve blocked it, or they’ve gotten meaner since I was in high school a few years ago.
I shake off my pessimism and glance at the lone student left under my supervision. She’s why I wanted to do this. Girls just like Everly Kent. It’s her first week, too, and it’s hard to say whose was more craptastic.
School has been over for almost an hour now, but I’m still here waiting for her parents to pick her up. She stands at the sink rinsing out paintbrushes and palette cups.
