Bryden:Mine’s name is Kai. He’s twelve and swears he can beat me in an arm-wrestling match. He and my parents just left. You can thank them for the treats.
She softens.
Collins:Desmond. He’s the best part of my life.
Bryden:I get that.
Bryden:What about your mom? Can’t she let you talk to Desmond?
All the color drains from her face, and her fingers tighten around the phone. I sense that I struck a nerve, tapped into that forbidden zone.
Bryden:Hey. Forget I asked.
Collins:She’s dead.
We send simultaneously.
Sam sucks in a breath, that cold, defensive demeanor returning. She hops up, snatching her backpack up with her. Regret washes over me, and I pinch my lips.
“Ready,” she huffs out.
I stand and follow her into the study hall. It smells like worn paper. It’s quiet as expected, but it feels heavier than it does otherwise. Like there’s a weight in the air.
We find a spot in the back near the windows. Sam immediately starts talking through the assignment. It’s interesting how quickly she buries her emotions.
“I was thinking we could test kinetic and potential energy.” She pulls out her notebook and textbook, turning through the pages until she finds what she’s looking for.
“I’m listening.”
“Something small-scale. A marble track or roller coaster model,” she says while tracing invisible lines with her fingers on the table. Her voice is low, but softer, not as shattered as before. “We could measure how changes in height affect velocity. Calculate energy conservation, friction losses, stuff like that.”
I like watching her think. It’s attractive seeing her brain at work. The idea is solid, much better than what I conjured up. Not wanting to embarrass myself by sharing my mediocre plan, I kick my bag to the side and lean in.
“Yeah,” I say finally. “We could do different surfaces. Test friction. Wood, plastic, metal.”
She brightens a little. It’s the type of smile that sneaks out before she can stop it.
We settle into a rhythm, working out the details. Before we know it, it’s been well over an hour, but it hasn’t felt nearly that long. It was comfortable and easy. Sam checks her phone.
“Shit. I’m sorry to cut this short. I need to catch the bus. Can we meet in a couple of days after the game to finish fleshing this out?”
“That works.”
Sam gives me a tight smile. “Good. See you at the game?”
I nod.
She hesitates for a moment, her eyes scanning mine as if she’s searching for words. But then she must change her mind because she walks away without a word.
I gather my duffel and stand to leave as well when my phone buzzes on the table. I pick it up, reading the message on the screen.
Collins:Thanks.
Collins:For not making earlier a thing.
My attention yanks to the exit just as the doors swing shut behind her. I stand there, staring at the text. Trying to figure out what to say next.
You’re welcome?
