“Hashtag I’ll call you.”
“Hashtag we sound so 2018.” Emery laughed.
“Hashtag so about lunch . . .”
Caleb paused to check his ringing phone. The caller wasn’t in his contacts, so he sent it to voicemail. Three seconds later, it rang again. Same number. When he answered, it was the principal’s office at Valparaiso Middle School, asking him to come as soon as possible.
“Emery, sorry, I have to go. My nephew is in the principal’s office.”
“Is everything all right?”
“Don’t know. Can I call you later?”
“Of course.” She waved him out the door. “Go. Good luck.”
Caleb had walked from his house to One More Cup, then to theGazetteoffice, so he didn’t bother going home for his truck. The middle school was only a half mile, if that, from the middle of downtown. With a quick jog under scattered clouds, he’d be there in five minutes.
He was still catching his breath when he walked into the principal’s office. “Caleb Ransom for—” The receptionist pointed to the closed door markedPrincipal Tucker.
Okay, guess he was going on in, see what he would see. Bentley sat across from the principal, head bowed, his thick towhead hair matted with sweat, his cheeks caked in mud, blood, and tears.
“Hey, buddy.” Caleb knelt in front of him. “What’s up?”
Bentley tumbled into his arms, clinging to him as Caleb dropped to the floor. Trembling and sobbing, he soaked Caleb’s shirt with tears.
“Shhh, it’s all right.” Caleb held him tight.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”
“I know you are. Come on, take a breath. Everything will be all right.”
When he’d calmed down, Caleb moved him back to the chair and accepted a box of tissues from Mr. Tucker.
Bentley wiped his nose and face, muttering. “Mom says boys don’t cry.”
“Really? Is your mom a boy?” Bentley’s green eyes widened as he shook his head. “Listen to me, I’m a man, and you can cry anytime you want. Just don’t let your emotions steer the ship.”
Bentley’s shoulders relaxed, and he finally looked Caleb in the eye. “I’m sorry, Uncle Caleb.”
“Bentley,” Tucker said. “Why don’t you go clean up and get some water. Then come back.”
When he’d gone, Caleb faced the principal. “What happened? He’s only been in school a day and a half.”
“Your nephew is having trouble adjusting.”
“Definetrouble.”
“Did you know this was his fifth school in two years?” Tucker said.
“I knew it’d been more than two. But five? Wow. Okay. My sister is a bit of a nomad.”
“I remember Cassidy. She was a bright student. I wasn’t theprincipal in her day, but I had her for math class. So, what’s the story with Bentley? He said he’s living with you.”
“My sister has a new boyfriend who doesn’t like kids. She asked me to take Bentley for the rest of the school year. We enrolled him last Friday.”
That’d been a weird day. Coming down to the school with Cassidy, being listed as Bentley’s guardian, the one to call in emergency. They had lunch at a food truck afterward, set up Bentley in the bedroom next to Caleb’s, then Cassidy drove off, smiling. Not a care in the world. But Caleb felt every one of them. He wondered if Bentley did too.
“So, who started it? Bentley or the other guy?”
