“I should go in,” he whispered, but he made no move to step away.
“You should,” I agreed, but I didn’t let go either.
Finally, with what looked like monumental effort, he stepped back and fumbled for his keys.
“I’ll text you tomorrow,” I said.
“You better.”
He slipped inside with one last smile, and I stood there on his porch, my palm pressed against the door long after the lightwent out. The neighborhood was quiet except for the distant hum of traffic and the soft rustle of leaves in the breeze.
Eventually, I made my way back to my car, my heart still racing from the way he’d held me like I was exactly what he’d been waiting for his whole life.
And maybe I was.
Maybe we both were.
Chapter 23
Theo
The library looked like a tornado had hit it, which happened every year when the seniors got their research paper assignments. Mount Vernon High’s twenty-five-page senior project was legendary—a rite of passage that required students to choose between literature, history, or science topics and then spend the next two months living in the library.
It was the one time all year when teachers from different departments actually collaborated on a joint graded project. I still wasn’t entirely sure how they divided up the grading responsibilities, but I knew my library became ground zero for stressed-out eighteen-year-olds who suddenly discovered that Wikipedia and AI weren’t acceptable sources.
“Mr. Jamison, I can’t find anything on the Harlem Renaissance that isn’t in a textbook,” Madison complained, dropping into the chair across from my desk with the dramatic flair only a teenager could muster.
“That’s because you’re looking in the wrong section,” I said patiently, leading her toward the 810s. “Literature is sortedby time period and cultural movement . . . and remember, textbooks count as sources—they’re often the best starting point for understanding historical context.”
“But Mrs. Peterson said we needed at least fifteen sources.”
“All right. That’s fine. Still, textbooks can be one of them. Think of them as your foundation and then build from there.” I pulled down a volume on African American literature. “Start here, then check the bibliography. See those little numbers? Each one leads to another potential source.”
Her face lit up with understanding. “Oh! So the books tell me where to find other books?”
“Exactly. Research is like following breadcrumbs.”
I tried not to roll my eyes. By the time these kids were seniors, they’d written dozens of smaller papers. Every last one of them—with the possible exception of the least motivated football players—had darkened my library door many times over the years. To just then be learning what citations and footnotes meant left me a bit baffled as to what these students were actually retaining.
Twenty minutes later, Madison was armed with six volumes and a much better attitude. I’d barely made it back to my desk when Trevor, the star pitcher on our state championship baseball team, appeared looking like he hadn’t slept in days.
“Mr. J, I’m supposed to write about the Manhattan Project, but everything I find is either too basic or way too complicated. Like, what’s a neutron bombardment?”
I suppressed a smile. “What’s your specific thesis?”
“Uh . . . my thesis? That, uh, the Manhattan Project was important and shit?”
Laughing at students was never a good thing, but a barked chuckle flew out faster than one of Trevor’s pitches. “And shit? Really, Trev? You’re a lot sharper than that, and we both know it. That’s not a thesis; that’s a statement of fact . . . and frustration.”
Trevor’s eyes fell. He was a good kid who took coaching well on the field. He got yelled at as much as any athlete and never seemed bothered, but if a teacher questioned his academic efforts, he curled into a miserably cute little ball. I’d seen his lack of confidence many times with other athletes who were unshakable while holding a bat or ball and knew I’d need to give him a little boost if I hoped to see better results.
I schooled my expression and asked, “What about it was important? How did it change science? Politics? Society? What about the relationship between government and research?”
Trevor stared at me blankly.
“Why don’t we narrow it down?” I suggested, walking him over to the science section. “Start with this general overview and then pick one aspect that interests you, maybe the ethical debates among the scientists? The secrecy protocols? The international race for atomic weapons?”
“Oh,” he said, his expression brightening. “I could write about whether the scientists knew they were basically creating a weapon of mass destruction.”
