I look at the clock. School won’t be over for another half hour. That gives us time to talk with Pam. I’m proud of Darcy for admitting what happened, and I hope people will finally start looking for an assailant.
“I’ll walk with you to Ms. Pam’s office,” I say.
“Okay.” She stands shakily, knocking over her bag. Random items scatter across the floor. I help her retrieve them. A compact. Tampons. Her keys have far too many charms, ranging from a Mickey Mouse figurine to an emerald cross to a Victory Hills mascot. I retrieve the items closest to me and hand them back to her.
“Thanks,” she says. Her petite body reminds me how young she is, but her face suddenly looks older. Like she’s found a small fragment of peace.
Together, we leave the classroom and make the short walk to Pam’s office. Before entering the guidance wing, I turn to Darcy. “I’m proud of you for doing this,” I tell her.
“Thank you, Mrs. Mayfair.”
I open the door, allowing Darcy to walk inside. She takes a seat in the waiting area, as students typically do. Through the glass on Pam’s door, I can see she is in her office with Principal Bowles. As though they felt my presence, they look up.
I push open the already cracked door. “Excuse me, Pam,” I say. “I have a student who needs to talk with you.”
Pam clears her throat and pushes back her shoulders. “Who is it?” she asks.
“Darcy Moore,” I say.
Pam and Bowles look at each other, then back at me. “We were actually wanting to speak with you, Della.” She releases the words like she doesn’t want to. Like she’s being forced.
“All right.” I walk inside the office and close the door, so Darcy can’t hear. “What’s going on?”
“What does Darcy want to speak with Pam about?” Bowles asks.
“I’d rather not say.” I look down. Darcy’s story will spread fast enough. Encouraging her to speak with Pam is one thing, but I’m not going to force the girl to share her story with Bowles, too. I look at Pam. “But she really needs to speak with you.”
“Okay,” Bowles says, walking away from Pam’s desk. “Tell Darcy to come on in. Della, follow me to my office. We can talk there.”
“What’s this about?” I ask.
“Just come with me,” Bowles says, abruptly walking past me and opening Pam’s door. He marches out of the guidance office, doesn’t even acknowledge Darcy sitting on the couch.
The door open, Darcy leans her head around the corner.
“Come on inside, Darcy,” Pam says. Darcy obeys, choosing one of the seats in front of Pam’s desk. Pam turns to me. “Thank you, Mrs. Mayfair.”
“Aren’t you staying?” Darcy asks.
“I need to speak with Principal Bowles about something,” I say. I raise my hands. “It’s completely unrelated.”
I look at Pam, who is staring at me with what seems like worry in her eyes. “I’ll take it from here,” she says.
“Just tell Ms. Pam what you told me,” I say to Darcy, before exiting the office.
Thirty-One
Winter 2005
Brian didn’t return home that entire first semester. His reluctance to visit didn’t surprise me, but it devastated Mom. She couldn’t understand why he wouldn’t make the two-hour trek to Wilsonville, even for the weekend. But Brian always had an excuse. He was busy joining a fraternity. He’d been selected to help tutor a freshman taking remedial English. At first, I thought his cheeriness over the phone was forced. As the weeks passed, he sounded like he was finding his place. I’d have to see him in person to know if it was an act.
According to Danny, Brian was doing all right. The two didn’t see each other as often; Danny was too focused on his first-year academics. He started texting me during the second week of the semester. I’m not sure why. We didn’t text when he lived in the neighborhood. He was firmly Brian’s friend. But now that Danny was gone, I think I was a link back to the life he sometimes missed.
As promised, Brian returned home after he completed finals in December. It was near four o’clock when I pulled Dad’s car into the driveway and saw my regular parking spot was filled by Brian’s truck.
I opened the front door and stepped into a Hallmark movie. A decorated tree stood in the corner of the room. Mom had sprinkled her collection of nutcrackers throughout the living room and kitchen. She had a roast in the crockpot and was preparing cider by the stove.
Mom looked up when I walked into the kitchen. “Hey, sweetie,” she said. She’d not called me sweetie in months. Maybe years.
“Place looks great, Mom,” I said.
“Please, it’s no trouble,” she said, stirring. If it were no trouble, she wouldn’t have spent the entire day decorating. But she couldn’t cheap out when it came to Brian, especially considering this was his first visit.
“Where’s Brian?”
“He ran out to see some of the neighborhood kids,” she said. “He’ll be back before dinner.”
I wondered which neighborhood kids Brian visited, if they were sharing war stories and comparing battle scars. I thought about Amber. I’d seen her at school a few times, but never got as close as I had on the day Brian left for SCU. If she saw me, she usually turned in a different direction. She’d made it clear she wanted me to stay the hell away.
“Can I help with anything?” I asked Mom. She instructed me to set the table using her good china. At this point, I wondered how she would outdo herself come Christmas Day if she used all her tricks now. I remembered this would be our first Christmas without Dad, and the familiar feeling of loss consumed me.
Minutes later, the front door opened, and Brian walked inside. I’d gone four months without seeing him. He had the same thick hair combed to the side and wore a SCU hoodie. Still, he looked different. His face, still handsome, was less defined. His body seemed bigger, like
