Left Behind

Our project is to read a book that is considered adult lit, pull out the conflicts and resolution, and incorporate the elements into a younger, more appropriate story aimed at an elementary school student.

“You want to write a story about an adulterer for seven year olds?” I take off my jacket, turn a chair around backwards to sit, and jump right into the middle of the debate.

“Not a story about an adulterer…we can make it about a less mature type of sin…but I think the main points, the moral of the story, can be simplified easily enough.” Allie says.

“Zack, help me here. Tell these two that Scarlet Letter is a chick book and we should do something a little more interesting.” Keller leans back in his chair, hands locked behind his head, waiting for me to defend his position.

I look over at Allie. Her eyes are gleaming. “I don’t know, Keller, Scarlet Letter might work.”

Allie smiles victoriously, giving Keller no time to rebut. “So it’s settled, our book is Scarlet Letter…how about we each write down what lesson we think the book is supposed to teach and then swap papers and see if we can come up with a way to relate the message to young kids.”

It takes a little convincing from the three of us, but Keller agrees to give Allie’s idea a try. Nine o’clock rolls around too quickly and the librarian is practically kicking us out as we finally decide the plot for our storybook. I’m the only one with a car tonight, so I offer to drive everyone home. I drop off Cory and Keller first, even though they live closer to me and it would’ve made more sense to drop them off after Allie.

I pull up in front of Allie’s house, our comfortable conversation falling into a lull. Suddenly there’s uneasiness between us. At least that’s what I feel, although I’m not sure Allie feels the same way. Or maybe she’s just really good at hiding it. “So, are you going to the bonfire Saturday night?” I ask.

“I was thinking about it.”

“You should go,” I say, with a hint of desperation in my voice that surprises even me when I hear it.

Allie smiles, turning to face me. It’s dark, but I can see the green in her eyes light up. “Okay. Maybe I will.”

“Then maybe I’ll see you there,” I tease.

She giggles and leans forward and kisses me on the cheek. “Thanks for the ride home, Zack.”

“No problem.” I watch her walk to the door, telling myself it’s the gentlemanly thing to do…make sure she gets in the house okay and all. But the way my eyes stay glued to her every step of the way is anything but gentlemanly.

Pulling into my driveway, I wait patiently as the garage door slowly rolls up. Across the street, the light is on in Emily’s room. I’m sure she left it on to tell me she’s awake. Her parents’ car isn’t in the driveway yet.

I get out of the car in the garage, and press the button to lower the door. There’s time for me to duck underneath, but instead I watch the door creep down until it reaches the floor and Emily’s house is no longer in sight. I’m sure I’ll get an earful tomorrow morning for not coming by. But tonight, it just doesn’t feel like the right thing to do.

Chapter 7

Nikki—

Brookside, Texas

When I look out the kitchen window for the twentieth time in the last hour, Ashley tries to get me to relax. “Never thought I’d see the day where you’re anxious to see Evil Evans,” she teases.

“What if she didn’t find her?”

“She did. Don’t worry.”

Four long days of waiting, not hearing a word from Ms. Evans, had me convinced that I was just a file to her. Not a person whose future depended on her being able to spend more than an hour on one of the forty-plus kids in her caseload. Until today, when she called and said she needed to talk to me.

“You don’t know that,” I say.

“Yes. I do.”

“No, you don’t.” My words come out a bit curt. It’s a tone I’ve never taken with Ashley and her eyebrows arch in surprise.

“I may not have heard the words, but I know it in my heart. I know things have to work out for you, Nikki.”

“What makes you so sure?” I murmur.

The sound of tires pulling into the trailer’s gravel driveway saves Ashley from having to answer. She slips out with a weak smile. I have the door open waiting before Ms. Evans even exits her car.

“You look tired today, Nikki.” She glances around at the sparse furnishings and sighs. “Why don’t we sit down?”

My heart lurches in my chest. The doctors always asked me to sit whenever they had to deliver bad news. I wonder if adults think I might fall over if they tell me something I don’t want to hear. Something irrational inside of me tells me that if I stand, she won’t be able to give me bad news.

“I’d rather stand.” I say, trying my best to not come off difficult. I’m in no mood to waste time debating the benefits of sitting versus standing.

Ms. Evans takes a deep breath and looks at me for a minute before nodding and sitting down herself. She takes out an oversized leather planner, the zipper bulging to contain all of the different manila folders shoved inside. Shuffling though at least a dozen worn folders with notes scribbled all over their outsides, she stops at one and pulls it out from the pile. It’s fatter than all the others.

“I found your Aunt, Nikki.”

Excited. Scared. Nervous. Anxious. I decide to sit after all.