“I want him to stay on track to graduate. I know if he applies himself, he can still get out of here with just shy of a 3.0 GPA. Which is still good enough to get him into most community colleges.”
“Of course I’ll give you his work. Let me send him a note, too. Let him know he’s missed.”
“Make sure he reads, too. I’m holding you accountable for the accuracy of his pop quizzes. Can you do that?”
Their generosity and understanding were overwhelming.
I gathered everything I needed from his first two periods and slipped it into my backpack. And while I usually kept that thing in my locker, I carried it around with me for the rest of the day. The principal allowed me access to his locker to get the books he needed for his classes. And the inside of his locker shocked me. I expected it to be in disarray. Filled with trash and disheveled with his books stacked on the small floor of it.
However, what I found gave me pause.
“Wow,” the principal said.
I stared at a picture of myself. A yearbook picture of me from freshman year. It had obviously been torn out of a book, and it was taped to the inside of his locker. And beneath my face, a heart. A simple, black ink penned heart. I ran my fingertips along it. I felt tears cresting my eyes. I gazed along his organized locker, taking in his alphabetically-arranged textbooks and his notebooks neatly stacked and named.
I sniffled. “Oh, Clint.”
“It’s kind of you, you know. To help him stay on track with his grades.”
The principal’s voice caught me off-guard and I quickly wiped at my tears.
“I’d like to think he’d do the same for me.”
He snickered. “You seem to bring out a different side of him. A side I’ve never seen before.”
I nodded. “He’s a good kid. He’s just a bad home life.”
“You’d be surprised how common that is.”
The statement made me sick to my stomach.
“I mean, I know Clint isn’t the most well-liked kid on campus or anything. But I’m really glad you guys are helping me out with this. I know he wants to graduate. If anything to get away from—”
I paused before I said anymore. And I watched as the principal nodded from the corner of my eye.
“Don’t worry. I’ll make sure his teachers work with you. And him. You know, to try and get him graduated.”
I snickered. “And get him off your plate?”
“And get him going in the direction he needs to be in. A direction he deserves.”
“You’re right about that.”
I finished gathering his books and the principal closed his locker. The bag was heavy, but I didn’t care.
A small price to pay for helping Clint recover and do what I know he wanted to do. My only regret was that I had to work tonight at the grocery store. Which came with its own set of worries and hesitations.
Like what the hell the manger would think—or say to me—once I walked through those doors.
I’ll be there soon, Clint. I just have to get through work.
And I hoped with all my might I wouldn’t be scared closing at work again after school.
14
Clinton
Cecilia clicked her way into the room. “Guess who’s calling!?”