“How should I know?” Drew said noncommittally.
“How should I know?” Emily parroted in a singsong voice. “Come on, Drew. I know her mom would kill her, and your dad wouldn’t approve, but I have eyes, and I know y’all are a thing.”
“Well, well, well,” I said. “Emily, this just got interesting. Please, take a seat.”
She did.
“We are not a thing,” Drew said. “But I do happen to know—from my mom’s church text string only—that Sarah is sick.”
Sarah was a senior and Ms. Theodora’s daughter. One of the “gifted” ones that were so challenging for her.
“So how long has this been going on?” I asked Emily, not Drew, since he clearly had deemed me unworthy of his secret.
“There’s nothing going on!” Drew said.
“Oh, like a year,” Emily said. “Since last baseball season, anyway.”
“Intriguing.”
Drew stood up like he was going to leave.
“Okay, okay,” I said. “Calm down. Sit down. Don’t get yourself worked up.”
I leaned forward a little and said, “Seriously, kids. Do y’all have any idea whose baby this could be? I feel like if someone comes forward, we might be able to protect them.”
“I seriously don’t think it was anyone at school,” Drew said.
“Same,” Emily said. “I think we would know if someone was pregnant. I mean, that’s pretty hard to hide.”
“Plus,” Drew said, “I just don’t think there’s anyone at our school who would be so upset by being pregnant that they wouldn’t tell a friend or family member or have someone who could help them.”
“That’s a good point,” I said. “And Mrs. Anderson is so approachable that I think pretty much anyone here would have felt comfortable confiding in her if they needed help. Right?”
Mrs. Anderson was our guidance counselor. She was young and cool and so good with the kids. I envied her sometimes because she connected with them on their level so easily. I was getting better at it. And it was the moments like this, when the kids just came in my office to talk, that made me know it.
I clapped my hands. “Okay, Emily. You have a cheerleading squad to rally.” I laughed. “Get it? Rally?”
She rolled her eyes and then sat up straighter. “Wait. You mean, like, today?”
I raised my eyebrows at her. “You’re telling me that you’ve been pestering me for weeks to cheer and you don’t have the squad ready?”
She smiled at me. “Nope. I do.”
“I figured as much.” I wondered what being a cheerleader under Emily’s regime must be like. Constant practice, uniform checks, team-building activities. I knew some of it was for college, but some of it was just Emily. Real, true passion and intensity about any- and everything she loved. I’d had that once. “Okay. Run along. I have a star pitcher to coach.”
“Tell Sarah I hope she feels better,” Emily said, winking at Drew.
“You tell her yourself, because you’ll talk to her before I will.”
“Uh-huh,” she said, turning to leave and calling over her shoulder, “Thanks, Coach! You won’t regret this!”
“I already do!” I called behind her.
Drew laughed and gestured toward the paper. “Okay, Coach. Lay it on me.”
“Is this because you want to be prepared or because you don’t want any more questions about Sarah?”
“Fifty-fifty,” he said.
