Page 44 of Chasing Callie

“I’ve got this.” Callie springs into action, already moving past me. She pauses for half a second, hand brushing my arm. “I’m really fine, Brax. Promise.”

Before I can press her further, she’s jogging down the hallway after Ms. Jennings. There’s fire in her eyes when she turns back once more.

“You coming or what, Williams?”

I’m transported back in time to Callie rushing off into danger and me and my brothers chasing after her. My feet start moving before my brain catches up. Whatever was on her phone will have to wait. For now, at least.

I can’t stop stealing glances at Callie as we navigate the crowded hallway toward the teachers’ lounge. The elementary school lunchroom is chaos incarnate today. Spilled milk, shouting kids, and harried staff trying to maintain order, which is nearly impossible considering it’s summer break. None of these kids really want to be here. When Callie grimaces at the noise level, I seize my opportunity.

“Do you want to escape to the picnic tables?” I nod toward the windows where a few sunbeams spill across the courtyard through the thicket of clouds. “Unless you enjoy the soothing sounds of kids arguing about which superhero could beat up which Pokémon.”

She rolls her eyes, but her lips quirk upward. “Lead the way.”

The muggy summer air hits as we emerge. Callie’s hair lifts slightly in the breeze, and I fight the urge to grab it and reel her in.

“The pergola’s nice,” she says, pointing to the wooden structure covering the table. “Who built that?”

“Knox, actually. School fundraiser three years ago.”

Her step falters slightly at his name, but she recovers quickly. “Of course he did.”

We settle at the picnic table, knees almost touching underneath. I pull out my lunch bag while Callie unpacks a neat container of what looks like a salad with goat cheese and cranberries.

“Fancy,” I tease, unwrapping my peanut butter sandwich.

She grins at my lunch. “Are you still twelve? Please tell me you at least used crunchy peanut butter.”

“Smooth. Always smooth.” I take a deliberate bite and smile through my mouthful. “Only demons like crunchy.”

“Dammit. My cover is blown.” She shakes her head, then squints at my lunch bag. “What else do you have in there?”

I pull out an apple and a bag of chips. Her eyes light up when she spots the chips, and I remember how this used to go in high school. She’d always bring something healthy her mom packed, and I’d always bring junk. Inevitably, we’d swap.

“I’ll trade you my chips for whatever that is.” I point to a container of what looks like blackberries. Sally Mae was always proud of her blackberry bushes.

“Oh, I couldn’t.” But she pushes the berries toward me anyway and snatches the bag with a smirk.

The first blackberry bursts against my tongue, sweet and tart simultaneously. We eat in companionable silence for a moment, the sounds of distant playground shouts our soundtrack.

“So. . .” I venture, popping another berry into my mouth. “Still painting? Any gallery shows I can brag about attending?”

The peace vanishes from her expression. She takes a deliberate bite of salad, chews thoroughly before answering. “Not exactly. Hey, how’d you end up teaching anyway? Last I remember, you were dead set on joining Knox at the auto shop.”

I notice the pivot but don’t push. Whatever happened with her art in the city is clearly a sore spot.

“You remember Knox helping us with homework?” I ask instead.

Her features soften. “Of course. He was basically a walking calculator.”

“Yeah, well, turns out I was paying attention to more than just the math answers. The way he’d break things down, explain it so it made sense.” I pause, searching for words. “After Mom left, Knox stepped up in ways he shouldn’t have had to. He’d help us with school stuff even when he was exhausted from doing his own because Dad was working and didn’t have time.”

I tear off a piece of crust, rolling it between my fingers. “One day I was volunteering at the after-school program, and this kid was struggling with fractions. I channeled my inner Knox. The look on that boy’s face when it clicked changed my life. I was hooked and suddenly, all I wanted to do was help kids the way Knox helped me.”

“That’s really sweet, Brax.”

“It’s not all heartwarming moments, though.” I glance toward the school. “Some of these kids come in hungry, or tired, or scared. There was this one boy in my class last year who would flinch whenever I raised my voice to get everyone’s attention. It made me sick thinking about what might be happening at home.”

“Have you reported it?” Her voice is gentle but concerned.