In Your Dreams
Page 36He said no. But he paid for her room and meals at the Black Swan B&B.
She came up to the house a few hours after the funeral to say goodbye and tell him she’d pay him back for the stay at the inn. Her face was white, her eyes too big and utterly terrified.
He almost wanted to take her in his arms and tell her it would be all right, that she could stay with him for a while.
Almost. It was disturbingly hard not to say the words.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
“SO HOW WAS the wedding, Officer Em?” Tamara asked as Emmaline walked into the basement of Trinity Lutheran Church.
“We’re not going to talk about it,” Emmaline said, smiling firmly at her at-risk teenagers.
“Sucked that bad, did it?” Dalton said.
“Pretty much, yes. Sarge, look! It’s the kids! The kids are here to see you!” She unclipped her wagging, crooning pup and watched with a smile as the dog bolted for the teenagers, Squeaky Chicken firmly in his mouth.
One of the reasons Emmaline had gotten Sarge was for the kids. Also, because she was single and liked having someone to come home to, and also because she was a cop and could make little Sarge here into a police dog (or not, because he definitely lacked the I’m a big scary dog gene).
But for this purpose—for making four tough, bored, cynical potential dropouts tolerate her—her dog was perfect.
“So Cory, you got suspended again, huh?” she said, setting down the box of cookies she’d picked up at Lorelei’s earlier that day.
“He told Dr. Didier that—”
“I already heard, Tamara. Cory? You were already in trouble with Mrs. Greenley. Did you feel things getting to that snapping point?”
Cory shrugged. He’d been suspended today after suggesting that the principal of Manningsport High was, in fact, a man. An ugly man at that, using some colorful words to describe just how ugly and just what evidence indicated Dr. Didier’s masculinity, then threw Dr. Didier’s paperweight in the trash—but he threw it hard. Like a baseball. The result was suspension.
“I’m guessing you did,” Em said. “And we all have those moments, Cory, when we’d like to break something. But that’s not acceptable.”
“Unless you’re an idiot,” Tamara said, peeling blue nail polish from her thumb and eyeing the cookies.
“Bite me,” Cory said. He took another cookie, put it in his teeth and let Sarge eat half of it, then chewed and swallowed the other half. Boys were so gross. Then again, Em had done the same thing the other night, so she was in no position to judge.
“So, Cory, what about your suspension?” she asked, trying to refocus them.
“Dude, you’re gonna get expelled,” said Dalton.
“You’re the one who stole a car,” Cory said.
“Yeah, but you’re smart,” said the other boy. “You could get a scholarship and everything. All I got is a life of crime to look forward to. Right, Officer Em?”
“I know,” Cory muttered. “But it’s like I can’t help it.” He paused. “I was gonna throw that thing through the window, and at the last minute, I threw it in the trash instead.”
Ah, progress. “Okay, so that was a step in the right direction. You made a less destructive choice.”
“Maybe you’ll get a sticker,” Kelsey Byrd said.
Em kept talking. “Even little things like taking a deep, slow breath can help. Eat right, get enough fresh air. Those are clichés because they’re true. Maybe you could join the boxing club.”
“Or, like, listen to music?” Tamara suggested. “When my mom had my brother and he cried all the time, she’d go into the cellar and play Nine Inch Nails really loud and, like, dance. Badly, I might add. But she always felt better.”
Cory gave a little smile.
“Four months till graduation, kids,” Emmaline added. “You’re almost there.”
“Ooh, graduation,” said Kelsey. “Like that makes a difference.” She folded her arms and rested them on her pregnant belly. She had good reason to be bitter, Em guessed. Single motherhood was hard enough; single teenage motherhood was harder.
“Well, the thing is, it does make a difference,” Emmaline said. “If you don’t graduate or get a GED, chances are you’ll have to work longer and earn less. And by longer, I mean longer hours and more years. You want a nice car? A decent place to live? A job you like? It’s going to be a lot easier if you stay in school.”
“I wanna be on TV,” Tamara said. “Like Ellen.” She took a cookie and bit into it.
“Ellen graduated from high school, dumbass,” Cory said. “How many days have you missed?”
“None of your business.”
“It’s my turn to hold Sarge,” Kelsey said. “Come here, puppy.” Her face softened beneath the harsh makeup.
Out of these four kids, Em was pretty sure that Tamara, Cory and Dalton had a decent chance. Cory’s parents were doing all the right things for his temper issues, and they adored the kid. Tamara, too, had nice parents and average intelligence; she was just a late bloomer who liked getting attention by acting up. She’d probably go to a community college and figure out what she wanted to do a year or three down the road. Dalton was from a long line of petty criminals; both parents had served time. The kid had a good heart and charm, though, and was as cute as they came. If he could find something that interested him, he might do okay... She could see him in sales or advertising. Or as a grifter. Same thing, really.
Kelsey, though...Kelsey would be hard-pressed to break out. A baby on the way, her father dead, her mother one of Em’s frequent calls for DUI and possession. They lived in a decrepit farmhouse on the edge of a field. Graying sheets hung in the windows for curtains, and there was a large hole in the roof. Kelsey was already heavily tattooed, seriously overweight and had those expander earrings and a pierced lip. She maintained a D average, and that was through the generosity of her teachers.
The odds had never been in her favor.
“Kelsey, what was your week like?” Emmaline asked.
Just then the basement door opened, bringing in a blast of cold air.
“Who’s that?” The girl pulled her head back like an offended duck.
It was Jack.
Huh. Emmaline hadn’t expected him to show.
Jack’s expression didn’t change, but something went out in his eyes almost immediately at the mention of the accident. He glanced at her. “Sorry I’m late,” he said, clearing his throat. “Hi, guys. I’m Jack Holland. Heard you need a chemistry tutor.”
This was met with groans and a general exhausted sinking.
“Are you a teacher?” Tamara asked, scanning him up and down.
“Can you make crystal meth?” Dalton asked. “Like that dude on TV?”
“I probably could,” Jack said, pulling up a chair next to Emmaline. “But I won’t.”
“Fair enough,” Dalton said. “Just exploring your options, man. And if you need a Jesse for your Walter White, keep me in mind.”
“How about a bomb?” Cory asked, sitting up with interest. “Could you make that?”
“Again, yes, I could, and, no, I won’t.”
“Poison gas cloud?”
“Poison gas, yes. Poison gas cloud? The kind that would float over a city and rain hellfire and brimstone down on people?”
“Yeah, totally!” Dalton said.
“Probably not.”
“Well, what can you do, then?” Tamara asked.
“Make wine.”
The kids rolled their eyes and slid deeper down in the folding metal chairs. Everyone made wine around here. How boring indeed.
“Chemists do a bunch of different things,” Jack said. “And they’re all really interesting. In organic chemistry, we work with carbon and carbon compounds. We can develop drugs, fertilizers, plastics. Inorganic chemists work with metals, electricity and minerals.”
“Please stop him before I stab myself in the eye,” Dalton said.
“And then we have analytic chemists, who identify materials and evaluate properties, and physical chemists, who—”
“You’re losing them Jack,” Emmaline said. “They’re literally dying of boredom. Look at them, the poor babies. Dalton? Speak to me! Stay away from the light!”
Jack grinned. “I can also guarantee you an A on any chemistry test you have this year,” he said. “And a B+ for physics and biology.”
“Dude, we’re all flunking out. Except Cory,” said Dalton. “You might want to rethink your statement.”
“Ooh, Officer Em! You got a boyfriend! You got a boyfriend!” Tamara crowed, doing a little dance in her chair, and for some reason, it delighted the kids (except Kelsey), who high-fived each other and made Sarge bark with excitement, then pee on the floor. Em got up to get the paper towels.
“I’m never gonna use chemistry,” Kelsey said. “So I don’t even care if I flunk.”
“You ever hear of oxytocin?” Jack asked.
“My cousin’s addicted to that,” Tamara said somberly.
“That’s Oxycontin,” Jack said with a smile. “Oxytocin is an amino acid peptide. A hormone. They call it the love chemical.”
“So?” Kelsey gave him a dead-eyed stare.
“So when you’re further along in your pregnancy, more oxytocin receptors will be created in your uterine muscles. When the baby’s big enough, your oxytocin level will rise, triggering labor, and will help your muscles contract so you can give birth.”
“Gross,” said Cory.
“No,” Jack said. “Miraculous. Without the oxytocin, your muscles wouldn’t be strong enough to push that baby out. But because of that chemical, you are. You’ll be superhero strong.” He smiled right into Kelsey’s eyes. “Then, when you see your baby, that rush of oxytocin will help you bond. That’s why they call it the love drug. And if you breast-feed, more oxytocin gets released, strengthening that bond. The maternal instinct is the strongest instinct in the world. Chemistry is definitely part of that.”
“You should definitely breast-feed, Kelsey,” Dalton said, wiggling his eyebrows. “I’ll supervise.”
“Shut up, Dalton,” Em said.
Kelsey had a soft, rapt look on her face.
Em would bet no one had talked about Kelsey’s pregnancy using words like superhero and miraculous and love and bonding.
“Cool,” Kelsey breathed. Jack glanced at Em, still smiling, and Emmaline felt...well, a little like Kelsey looked. Even if she was cleaning up dog pee.
She went to the kitchen, washed up and returned. “Dalton, it’s your turn. How’s your dad?”
“Still out on probation,” Dalton said. “But he’s getting itchy.” He picked at his shoe. “Maybe you could swing by. I don’t want him to do something stupid.”
“You bet.”
Jack was mostly quiet for the rest of the meeting, but it was different, having him there.
Em knew the kids were only there because they had to be; the alternative was being expelled. But she hoped she wasn’t the typical adult, with too much authority and not enough understanding (like Levi), or one of the irritating kind who pretended to be their age and used words like smexi and hater. She wanted them to be able to count on her. They didn’t have to like her, but she hoped they did.