Page 30 of What Maple Heard

“They were drinking,” she said. “They tested them all. The levels were — they were high, Cade. They’re fourteen. And Noah Walker drove them there. He drove while drunk.” Her voice cracked. “There could have been an accident. They were on the highway. One wrong turn and—“

She put her hands over her face.

She didn’t want me to see her cry. I knew that without her saying it. Maple Brooks had been handling things alone her entire life and showing someone that she was not handling something was the one thing she could not easily do.

I wanted to pull over. I wanted to put my arms around her and tell her I had her. I wanted to take every bit of this fear and carry it for her, even temporarily, even just for the drive.

I couldn’t do any of that. Not yet. Not without pushing her away.

So I did the only thing I could do.

I said, very quietly: “Hey.”

She still had her hands over her face.

“Hey. Look at me.”

She lowered her hands. She looked at me. She looked tired, like she had been carrying too much for too long and had just picked up something heavier than expected.

“Everything is going to be okay,” I said. “You understand me? I’m here with you and I’m not going anywhere. You have done everything a person can do for him. You have done more than everything. He’s fourteen, Maple. He’s not forty. He has his whole life ahead of him. This is going to pass.”

“What if it becomes part of his record?” she said. “What if this is the thing he can’t come back from?”

“Everyone deserves a second chance,” I said.

She looked at me when I said that. A long look. Then she looked back at the road.

I cleared my throat.

“When I was fifteen, the same age as River, I was caught shoplifting.”

Maple looked at me with surprise in her eyes.

I kept my eyes on the road. I had never shared a personal story with anyone before. But with Maple, the words just tumbled out.

“My parents were traveling, so the store called my grandfather. I was very close to him. The way he understood me — nobody else did, not really.” I glanced at her. She was listening.

“Papa, my grandfather, came. He talked to the police, talked to the shop owner. The shopowner had decided not to press charges. Papa thanked everyone and took me home.” I paused. “In the car, he said, Cade, this is the first time. At fifteen, everyone makes these mistakes. I won’t tell your parents. Not this time. Because I believe you already understand what you did wrong, and saying more won’t teach you anything extra.” I looked at the road. “He never told them. And I never did it again. Because he believed in me enough not to grind it into the ground.”

Maple didn’t say anything for a moment.

“He sounds like a good man,” she said finally.

“The best one I’ve known,” I said.

The school receptionist looked at me when we walked in.

Then she looked at me again.

Then she looked at me a third time, which I felt was sufficient to make her point.

I looked down.

That’s when I realized my blazer was unbuttoned. The green leotard was fully visible underneath, leaf-colored and figure-hugging and absolutely unmistakable. My pants were bunched up around the crotch from being pulled hastily over the leotard. My face had glitter on it. My hands had glitter on them. My blazer had glitter on it. There was glitter on my shoes. There was probably glitter on the receptionist’s desk from where I’d been standing.

There was a lot of glitter.

Maple asked her about the call. “Of course, Ms. Brooks.” The receptionist said. “Principal Davis is expecting you. Second door on the left.” She kept her eyes on me as we walked towards the room.