Wreath (29 page)

Destiny and a trio of other cheerleaders made their way to the table, and the boys shifted, bringing Law much too close for Wreath’s comfort. He smelled fresh and clean like soap, and his tray smelled like meat and gravy.

Wreath stood up, accidentally pushing the table in her haste. “I forgot that I’m supposed to talk to Miss Watson,” she said. “See you later.”

She grabbed her miserable lunch and her overstuffed pack, stained and ragged, and rushed out of the room.

“What’s her problem?” she heard Mitch ask.

In the courtyard, Law walked up to Wreath, who was wolfing down the scant sandwich and thinking that finger foods were grossly overrated. Thunder rumbled in the distance, and the temperature was dropping.

She knew from an online weather report that there was a good chance she’d get drenched on her way home this evening, an ordeal that had become too frequent as the wet days of a Louisiana December settled in. A cold rain was miserable.

“I thought you had a teacher conference,” Law said, sitting on the concrete bench next to her.

Wreath bit into her apple and chewed deliberately. She couldn’t bear for him to think she might want something different to eat. “Miss Watson wants to see me about something,” she said after a moment or two. “I figured I might as well finish lunch before I got in trouble.”

“Why would you be in trouble?” Law asked. “You’re the best student in every class. The other seniors are taking bets that you’ll be in the top three and get to speak at graduation.”

Wreath took another bite of apple to buy time to adjust to Law’s words.

“What’ve you got now? A four-point-oh?” He reached up to brush a small piece of apple off the corner of her mouth.

Wreath’s heart galloped, and she took another bite, stalling.

“I’m going to be super mad if you beat me out for valedictorian,” Law said. His broad smile was so appealing that Wreath wanted to lean over and hug him, until she reminded herself she didn’t hug anyone but Frankie. And Frankie was gone.

“That must be one fascinating apple,” Law said.

Wreath chewed on.

“You are the strangest girl I’ve ever met.”

“Thanks a lot,” she said, still chewing.

“I mean strange in a good way,” he said. “You’re smart and artistic and not like the rest of the girls at Landry High. What’s up with you anyway?”

“Nothing’s up with me. Just because I wanted a little peace and quiet to eat my lunch out here doesn’t mean anything.” Law Rogers thought she was smart and artistic! Her mind did cartwheels.

“What’s up with you?” she asked, needing to turn the conversation.

“Nothing’s up with me,” Law said, “other than work and school and practicing guitar and trying to get to know the most interesting girl in Landry.”

Wreath took one last bite into the core to make sure she hadn’t left any fruit and tossed the apple into a trash can ten feet away.

“Three points,” Law said as it thudded into the container. “You are in such great shape that I’m surprised you don’t play sports.”

“I don’t have time,” she said and offered him a teasing smile. “I have to study extra hard to beat you out in the class rankings.”

“Where do you go when you leave work anyway?” he said. “It’s like you vanish into thin air and appear on the school bus the next morning. Some of the kids are joking that you’re the opposite of a vampire. You come out during the day and disappear at night.”

Wreath stood up so quickly that her unzipped pack fell to the floor and her diary, granola bar, and container of deodorant fell out. She scrambled to pick them up, trying to make sure the inside pocket was still closed, but Law beat her to each item and held them out in outstretched hands. As she reached for them, he laid them on the pack and took her dry, cracked hands.

“Are you in trouble, Wreath? Miss Watson or one of the other teachers might be able to help you, or my grandparents. They’re old, but they’re super nice.”

“I’m not in trouble.” She tried to pull the pack and herself back together. “Not that it’s any of your business.”

He stayed seated but reached out to take her hand when she started to walk off. “I don’t want to offend you or anything, but you can sign up for the free lunch program without much of a hassle,” he said. “That’s what I did.”

Wreath’s eyes widened, not only at the thought of free food but at the realization that such a cute, popular boy had to eat for free.

Law twisted his shoulders in the way Wreath had noticed he did when he was uncomfortable. “My mother’s not all that reliable,” he said. “And you’ve probably heard that my dad’s in jail.”

“Your dad?” She was stunned.

“He’s a major loser,” Law said. “That’s why I work harder at school, so I won’t turn out like him.”

Wreath knew she should pull her hand away from Law’s but loved the feel of his fingers against hers.

“So what I’m trying to tell you is that help’s available if you need it,” Law said. “I’m living proof.”

Wreath weighed her words carefully. “You’ve lived here your whole life. My family moves around. It’s harder to get help when you don’t know people.”

Instead of blowing off her comments, Law seemed to consider Wreath, his head cocked, his expression intense. “That’s a valid point, but no one’s completely alone.”

“I am,” Wreath said.

“At least you have your mother,” he said, the words sounding more like a question than a statement. “She sounds a lot more dependable than my mom.” He let go of Wreath’s hand and patted the bench next to him. “Sit down and tell me about her.”

“I’ve got to go,” Wreath said.

“You always do that, you know. You run off when I try to talk to you.”

She gave him what she hoped was a sassy look, ran her hand through her hair, and tried to think of a comeback. But her spunk fizzled. “I do better with books than people. I’ve never been very talkative.”

“My grandfather says he sees you in the library all the time.”

“How does he know me?”

“He’s the librarian,” Law said. “He’s worked there for decades.”

“Mr. Nelson’s your granddad?”

“One and the same,” Law said. “He’s my mother’s father.”

“But why …” Wreath stopped the question, knowing it sounded rude.

“Why do I eat free lunches and live in a crummy trailer with a mother who’s addicted to prescription pills?” Law asked. “Is that what you want to know?”

“It’s not my business,” she said. “I don’t like it when people pry into my life, and I shouldn’t ask you personal questions.”

Law stood up and studied her face, then looked right into her eyes. “My grandparents don’t like the decisions my mother’s made, but I can’t bring myself to go off and leave her.” He hesitated. “It would make life a lot easier in certain ways, but it doesn’t seem right.”

“Do you see them a lot? Your grandparents, I mean.”

“A few times a week,” he said. “I usually go by the library one afternoon and to their house for supper. Gran’s an outstanding cook. And they take me to church.” He winked. “Believe it or not, I like going, and I eat lunch with them every Sunday. You should come sometime.”

“I work on weekends,” she said.

“On Sundays?” he asked. “I thought the store was closed.”

“Oh, it is,” she said, the hot feeling of a flush creeping up her face. “But I have homework and housework and that sort of thing. I haven’t gone to church much since my grandmother died when I was five.”

“Think about it,” Law said. “I’m practicing with the new youth band, and we’re playing a concert in a few weeks. You could come hear us and eat lunch afterward.”

She glowed at the possibility of going anywhere with Law, and her mouth watered at the thought of a home-cooked meal.

But she knew she couldn’t let it happen. Things like that never worked out in her life.

Chapter 27

W
reath took the school bus the next day, determined to get to Landry High early enough to confront Miss Watson. The dread had hung over her throughout the night, bringing the night noises closer in her mind.

The talk with Law about free lunches had made her potted meat and crackers more distasteful than usual. She wanted to sign up for the food program but was afraid of the paperwork. Lying to a girl like Destiny was one thing, but lying to the federal government was something altogether different.

Miss Watson was writing on the old-fashioned chalkboard, outlining the day’s question and topics of discussion when Wreath entered. The teacher referred to the textbook several times before she saw the girl.

“You needed to see me?” Wreath asked, holding out her social studies notebook. “I’ve been paying close attention in class and keeping up with the homework assignments.”

The young teacher waved the notebook away. “You’re an excellent student, Wreath. Surely you know that. I wanted to talk with you about your approach to art.”

Looking at the clock on the wall, Julia motioned for Wreath to sit on a nearby stool and rolled her chair over until they were almost knee-to-knee. “I saw your painting in the art room,” Miss Watson said. “I’m not very good at drawing, am I?”

“You’re an excellent artist,” Julia said.

“Mrs. Colvin doesn’t think I’m paying attention to her directions,” Wreath said.

Once more, Julia spoke over her. “You’ve got an unconventional eye.”

The two laughed at the clumsiness of their conversation, and Julia held up her hand to silence the girl. “Different art teachers have different opinions about what makes a work good or bad.”

“It’s pretty clear that Mrs. Colvin’s opinion of my work is not very high.” Wreath waited, wondering where this history teacher who preferred art was going with the conversation.

“There are basics skills students need to learn, however, and your art teacher has more traditional views on those than other teachers might have.”

“Like you?” Wreath asked.

“Let’s just say that Mrs. Colvin and I were trained in different schools of thought. That doesn’t make either of us right or wrong.”

Wreath looked at her watch, knowing her homeroom class started in less than ten minutes. “I’m not sure I know what this has to do with me. I plan to pull my grade up with my next project.”

“I’d like to help you with your art studies,” Julia said, the words coming out fast. They almost made a whooshing sound.

“You mean like a tutor?” Wreath frowned. “I can’t afford a tutor.”

“There’d be no charge, of course,” Julia said. “We’d just need to find a time when you’re available.”

“But I still don’t get why you’re suggesting this. I’ve got plenty of time to pull my grade up.”

Julia shrugged. “You’re trying to get a scholarship, and your grade point average is important. I might be able to help you understand what Mrs. Colvin is looking for, and teach you techniques for use at other times.”

Slowly it dawned on Wreath what Miss Watson was not saying. If she kept using her own instincts, no matter how much she liked them, she would not please the old-fashioned teacher. “You mean you can teach me what Mrs. Colvin wants?” Wreath asked.

Julia nodded. “That’s one way of looking at it.”

“I work after school and on Saturdays,” Wreath said.

“Since I live in the apartment across the alley, I can meet you at the store, if it wouldn’t get you in trouble. Is there a slow time when I can stop by?”