“Are you just gonna stare at me while I go through these?” He’s slipped on his reading glasses and asks me while glaring over the rims. It’s funny to see him old, though he’d be quick to put me in my place.
“Nah,” I say, leaning to the side and pulling out my pack of gum. I unwrap a piece and pop it in my mouth, then hold the pack out for him. He shakes his head.
“Suit yourself,” I say, pushing it back into my right back pocket then shifting my weight to pull my phone out of my left. I prop my device up on my knee and open the meme app that always makes me laugh. It starts off with a bang with a video of a kitten on top of a record player, spinning.
“I think I’d rather you stare at me than make that sound,” my dad says.
I glance up at him and snap my gum.
“What sound?”
He flattens his pencil on his desk and drops his head into his hands, pulling his glasses away so he can pinch the bridge of his nose.
“Sorry.” I shrink into my seat and turn the volume down on my phone, then spit my barely broken in gum into the wastebasket at my side.
My father continues to stare at me, and I know it’s because he feels guilty that I was somebody’s target again. This is exactly what I didn’t want. I don’t want sympathy, I want change, but that is going to be slow, and probably not fully happen in my lifetime. But if I start something, if I inspire someone—a little version of me? Maybe my great granddaughter will be able to go out for whatever sport she wants and get the respect she deserves.
“You know there’s a pretty decent guy hovering outside my door waiting to take you home, right?” My mouth drops because no, I didn’t.
I look over my shoulder at the closed door with nothing but a slit window that’s dirty and impossible to see through.
“He’s texted me twice,” my dad admits. He twists his own phone around to show me, pushing it forward on his desk with one finger so I can read it. It feels a little intrusive, but it doesn’t stop me.
Coach, I am sorry if I caused problems today. If Hollis is still here, can you tell her I’m outside?
Coach, I’m still outside. Does Hollis need a ride home?
I don’t realize I’m grinning until my dad calls me on it, covering the screen with his palm until I look up and feel it sting my face.
“He was trying to do right by you,” my father says. He shrugs, then adds, “Be part of that change you want, you know?
I look down to my hands kneading in my lap and pick at the dry corners of my nails. I know he meant well, and the position I put him in, having to hold in a secret like that, was unfair. It’s just that I’m so tired of the fight. Every time, with everything—a fight.
“Go on. If you stay here, you’re going to get on my nerves.”
I meet my dad’s stare and it’s earnest, and he isn’t lying. I will drive him nuts for the next two hours. I’ll also spend the time sitting here wondering if Cannon is going to text me, if he’s still outside.
“See ya at home?” I lift my bag up over my shoulder.
My dad points at me.
“Promptly home. This is a school night.” He puts his glasses back on but lets his glare linger for a second. I snort out a laugh, mostly because it gets under his skin. He just looks down at his work and waves me off.
All of the sureness in my decision fades away the second I step outside. I look to my left and my right, adjusting to the stark darkness outside.
“Cannon?” I whisper his name, testing the sound. The only response is a whistle of wind against my face. I drop my bag to pull out my heavy sweatshirt and pull it on, then tug my bag up on my arm and light my pathway with my phone.
“Cannon?” I call out louder this time, my chest tightening. I’m afraid. I’m scared because I’m a woman alone in the dark. I’m so mad that I have to feel this way, that I’m looking for someone I trust while fearing those I don’t. Goddamn Zack for making me feel that way!
When my phone buzzes in my hand, I jump and flatten my back against the wall. I touch my screen to read the message, my pulse skipping for a good reason this time when I see Cannon’s name.
Was that you? I’m still here.
I type back Yes and walk faster toward the parking lot.
“Hollis?” My name is called from around the building, so I rush toward the sound and round the corner, running into his chest, his arms swallowing me up. I’m crying on impact, and let it happen. It’s not a bad cry this time. It’s one born from relief, from happiness that he’s still here.
“I’m so sorry. I only wanted to help, and—”
I shake my head and drop my bag at our feet, holding his face between my freezing palms so I can kiss him.
“Shut up,” I demand. “I know. I know.”
As good as his kiss feels, it’s his hug that makes a world of difference. Every misfire in my chest rights itself, my breaths even out, and my eyes focus on the soft sweatshirt and hard chest in front of me, around me, holding me.
Cannon is an ally. He is a voice different than mine but up for fighting my battles along with me. He’s tender and honest and fearless. He gives me hope, and that’s all I ask for. Hope, and
