Zach chuckles. “That would be an interesting twist. But no. She wouldn’t do that, because she doesn’t know if he’s grown as a character yet. They were both part of the problem, so he could simply throw her in jail the way he’d been threatening to in the beginning when he fingerprinted her.”
That ending holds some dramatic irony for my story, but I wouldn’t want to experience it in real life. Also, Zach has a point about Karson’s growth. I’d been hoping he’d do what Kai did and be inspired to make positive changes in his life while I’m gone, but I have no evidence of that. For all I know, he’s even angrier than before because he’s now had his heart broken twice.
I hesitate but finally ask, “What do you think she should do?” Not so much for my script as for myself.
“They’re your characters, sweetheart.”
I scrunch my nose, and not only at the disingenuous moniker. The other part of his response bothers me more.
“Figure it out and bring me the new ending when we meet at the end of the month.”
I fold over to rest my forehead on the cool laminate desktop. This churning in the pit of my stomach will give me more empathy the next time I see one of my students hunched in such a position.
“Okay,” I squeak. But now I feel more hopeless about the script—and my life—than ever.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
KARSON
A hero is somebody who voluntarily walks into the unknown.
—TOMHANKS
Gemma walked past my office, took a deep breath, and disappeared. I thought she was waiting outside for me in the hall, but then when I got up to talk to her, she continued on as if she didn’t even know I was there. Was she pretending not to notice me? No, she’s too transparent to be that good of an actress. Plus, she’s always wandering around like she has no clue what’s going on.
I seized the opportunity and followed her. Her classroom was the best place to have a private discussion anyway. Once she finally went in, I was about to knock on her door when her phone rang. It was a guy named Zach, and to my dismay, she was pretty excited to talk to him.
I’m disappointed, but I’m not letting myself get angry. I’m also not letting this dissuade me from saying what I need to say. I’m simply waiting for the opportune time. Whenever that may be. So far it’s been over a month.
This morning she’s helping students hang homecoming dance posters throughout the commons. I know this because I’m watching from a monitor in my office that shows camera footage from around the school.
The longer I wait to approach her, the creepier it will seem when I out myself, but I just wish our reconnection would happen naturally. Like the time I was doing a locker search right outside her classroom, and she was heading my way. But then she checked her purse and returned to her classroom as if she’d forgotten something. Or when I was in the parking lot, helping with a fender bender, and she approached. But then she breezed right by, telling a student the story of driving my cop car. Evidently, she wrote a screenplay about it, and it has some interest.
I’m like one of these students with a secret crush. Is this how she felt about me back in the very beginning? It’s nerve-racking. Though I have the feeling she’ll be nicer to me than I was to her.
“Officer Zellner?” A girl in a black cheerleading uniform stands at my door.
“Hey. What can I do for you?” I love when the kids come to me rather than me have to go to them. I get up to join her at the entry since there’s not much room inside.
“I’m on the homecoming committee, and I wanted to make sure you’ll be here as a chaperone for our dance this weekend.”
“Oh.” That’s one of my responsibilities I’d forgotten about. Not exactly what I pictured when I got into law enforcement, but a dance is a good way to keep an eye on these kids. “What’s the date and time?”
She tells me, and I flick open my calendar app to add it to my schedule. My gaze slides toward the commons, where Gemma is finishing up. Maybe she’ll be a chaperone too. That would be a more natural way to connect than stalking her in the hallways.
My pulse skips a beat, like it used to when I was preparing for a drug bust or weapons raid. Because this plan also feels life-threatening. “I’ll be there.”
She bounces on her toes and then waves before spinning to leave. “Thanks for your help.”
“See ya.” As much as I want to connect with these kids, I was more comfortable dealing with hardened criminals. Which is probably why I need to be here. I thought it was for them, but it seems to be for me.
CHAPTER THIRTY
GEMMA
A true hero isn’t measured by the size of his strength, but by the strength of his heart.
—ZEUS, INHERCULES
