Rather than respond to her question, I offer a contrite smile and silence, which she quickly interprets.
“Oh, honey. Cut yourself some slack,” she says, reaching forward and patting the top of my hand.
April picks up her phone and makes a call, winking at me, and I leave the office and head to the main lawn where Lily’s classroom lets out. My tie is still rolled up in my jacket pocket, so I pull it out and thread it around my collar while I wait for her. Less than a minute after April calls her out, Lily’s rushing down the steps of the main building and pulling her phone from her satchel. She glances up mid-text and stops in her tracks when she spots me.
“Hi,” I mouth, holding up my hand.
Even several yards away, her smile beams. Her hair is parted down the center, curly waves twisting in the breeze over each shoulder. She hugs her body as she cuts through the grass toward me.
“They just called me to the office. What are you doing out?” She scans the area around us before stepping up on her toes and giving me a quick kiss. I take her hands in mine and rub them to keep them warm.
“You’re not really needed at the office,” I say through a crooked smile. She squints at me with skepticism and maybe a touch of worry in her eyes.
“Are you getting expelled after all?”
“No, nothing like that,” I reassure. “The opposite, in a way. Coach wanted to meet. He managed to cut my sentence. I get to practice today.”
Her eyes widen.
“Amazing!” Her chest fills with relief, too. I appreciate her sympathy because yeah, I’ve had a pretty shit run of luck this last few days.
“What’s amazing is the reason my punishment was reduced. You have to read it yourself. I’d never be able to do it justice.” I open my portfolio and pull Raskin’s letter out, handing it to Lily. I study her expression as she reads, and her response mirrors mine.
“Wow. He wrote this?”
I laugh as I take back the letter.
“I think maybe he had help, but yeah.”
She sucks in her lips and lifts her brows in awe. I have no letter to give her. But I have things I need to say. I check the time on my phone again, wishing I had more than a few minutes for this. It can’t wait, though. She’s gone long enough not hearing it from someone who matters. And I hope I matter.
To her.
“I wanted to talk for a minute, before second bell. Walk with me?” I pull her knuckles to my mouth and press a kiss to her cold fingers. A smile flickers on her lips.
“Okay,” she agrees.
Our fingers intertwine as we head in the direction of the math and science hall. Our second hours are at opposite ends of the same building so I can make the most of this short time.
“I don’t think I’ve said this out loud to you, and well . . . I should have. For sure by now, but honestly . . . probably months ago,” I say.
“Okay,” she says, her voice wavering. I squeeze her hand for reassurance. I stop us just outside the science building by the statue of some rich dude who paid for it fifty years ago.
“I’m sorry.” There’s a whole litany of items I could add after those two words, but I stop short of overwhelming her with all the things I regret and wish I could take back.
I’m sorry I blamed you.
I’m sorry you got hurt.
I’m sorry you had to grieve alone.
I’m sorry you ever felt guilty.
I’m sorry I made you.
The apologies run through my mind as I stare into her puzzled eyes.
“You’re so nice that you don’t even realize what I’m apologizing for,” I say through a breathy laugh.