“Don’t you remember how bad that date was?”
“I remember.”
Damien had chosen a restaurant that Em hated and talked about himself the entire time. When the bill came, he insisted that they split the cost fifty-fifty even though his meal cost twice as much. And when they’d discovered Em’s car battery had died, he told her he couldn’t wait around. Apparently, there had been a game on that night, and he hadn’t wanted to miss any of it.
Em had been forced to call her brother to come rescue her. He’d come right away and even took her out for ice cream on the way home. Finn was the perfect big brother who was always there for her.
Her date with Damien had been the last straw. After that, Em had decided no more athletes—soccer players especially. It was a good rule that had protected her heart.
She gave Frida a pointed look. “So you know why the rule is in place.”
“I do.” She shrugged. “Finn’s not like that.”
Em shook her head. “He’s my brother. What’s your point?”
“My point is that not every athlete is a jerk. Finn’s one of the good ones. Maybe Grant is too.”
“I don’t think it’s worth the risk.”
“Well, you know what is worth the risk?” Frida asked, her voice cheery once more. She pulled out her phone and started tapping the screen.
Em’s heart dropped in her stomach. “What are you doing?”
“Someone took their phone back before I could look at all of Grant’s pictures,” she said without looking up from her screen. “I’m gonna finish snooping.”
“Stop it.” Em leaned over the table and tried to grab Frida’s phone.
Frida leaned back in her chair just out of reach. She laughed. “What are you? Twelve?”
“No.” She sat back down in her seat and pouted. Great, now Em was acting like she was twelve. “Just don’t follow him, okay?”
“Too late.” Frida gave Em an innocent look that was anything but.
Em covered her face with her hands. There were so many pictures of the two friends posing together on Frida’s page. If Grant looked at Frida’s profile, he would see Em. Then he’d know for sure that she’d been stalking his profile after meeting him this past weekend.
She was going to kill Frida, but the lunch bell rang before she got the chance.
Em gathered her things from the table and looked at Frida. “Please promise me you won’t play matchmaker and message him.”
Frida set her phone down. “Do you really think you need to say that?”
Em stood up and sighed. Frida always teased about Em needing to get a boyfriend, but Em was ninety-nine percent sure that she would never do anything to embarrass her. “No.”
“Good.” Frida’s wicked smile was the reason for the one percent uncertainty. “Then I’ll see you later.”
Em waved at her friend as she threw away her trash and walked to grab her students from the lunchroom, determined not to worry about Frida or Grant anymore today—only that her clothes remained puke-free.
The rest of the day was fine until class was done for the day. When the dismissal bell rang, one boy remained in her class. His arms folded on his desk, and his head rested face down on top of them so that Em could only see his blond hair. He was supposed to go to aftercare until his mom finished working in the cafeteria, though this wasn’t the first time he’d stayed behind in her class.
Em took a deep breath before she sat down on the desk beside him. “Riley?”
The young boy sniffed a few times but didn’t say anything.
Em’s heart broke for him. His dad had died last year, and while she hadn’t known him the year before, everyone said he wasn’t the same boy. Based on what other teachers had said, he’d gone from a happy and silly kid to a quiet one who kept to himself.
The quiet kid was the only Riley that Em had known.
She hated that he’d experienced such a devastating loss at a young age. If it was possible to take his pain and make it her own, Em would do it in a heartbeat. But she couldn’t. All she could do was be a consistent presence in his life and offer comfort when he needed it.
She reached out, put her hand on his back and rubbed it in circles hoping to soothe him. Slowly, his muscles relaxed, and the sniffles became few and far between.
Riley pushed up and rubbed the back of his hands over his eyes. His gaze stayed trained to the floor. “Sorry, Ms. O’Brien.”
“Sweetie, you don’t have to be sorry.” She leaned in. “Wanna talk about it?”
He shook his head. “Not really.”
“That’s fine. You don’t have to talk to me, but if you ever want to, I’m always happy to listen, okay?”
Without looking up, he nodded.
She knew that she should send him to aftercare, but he looked like he was barely keeping it together. The idea of him crying and kids making fun of him was too much to bear. “Do you want to stay and help me tidy until your mom finishes up? I can text her and let her know you’re here.”
He nodded again.
“Great,” she said, trying to keep the pity out of her voice. “You can wipe down desks or sharpen pencils. Whatever you want.”
Riley got up from his seat and grabbed the canister of sanitizing wipes from her desk and went to the far end of the room. Once he did, Em pulled out her phone and sent a quick text to his mom to let her know where her son was.
Notifications from Instagram flashed on her screen. It had been fun to look at Grant’s pictures earlier, but now she just felt guilty for doing that. It felt wrong to enjoy herself when there was so much pain in the world. She just wanted to go around and fix it.
Frida had warned her time and time again that she would burn out if she wasn’t careful. She’d told
