Page 20 of Run Home

Danae face-palms. “That would be helpful information.” She walks to a different library door than the one we came through and pokes her head into the hallway. Apparently satisfied that no one is around, she beckons me over, and I peek out over her shoulder.

She points down the hallway and says, “Walk to the end of the hall, hang a right, and go through the first door on the left. That will get you into the back of the room.”

“Got it,” I say. “See you after.”

Danae leaves, and Sam walks over next to me. Her gorgeous eyes look more blue than green today thanks to the robin’s-egg-blue shirt she’s wearing—eyes that narrow to slits as she commands, “No making a big scene. No whistling, no standing to cheer, no dance moves, no Spanish exclamations. Absolutely nothing to draw attention to us in the back corner of the room. Got it?”

The gravity of the black hole in my chest draws me to her with a force I can’t overpower. Not that I’m trying much at this point. I take a step closer, leaning in slightly. “And if I don’t got it?”

Sam appears momentarily paralyzed, her eyes locked with mine, and I wonder if maybe—just maybe—she’s feeling the gravity between us too.

The moment is fleeting, and Sam steps backward toward the door.

“If you don’t got it, then I guess I’ll have to tell Griffin that the time I told him to cover for you being late to spring training wasn’t actually because you had a flat tire but because you ran out of gas on the side of the road,” she threatens.

Gasping, I clap a hand to my chest. “You wouldn’t.”

One corner of her mouth twitches. “I would if forced.”

“You swore when you brought me the gas can that you wouldn’t tell Griff what happened,” I remind her. I push the envelope a little more. “Surely you wouldn’t threaten the trust of our friendship. After all we’ve been through together.”

Pain flickers in Sam’s eyes before she looks down.

Ay, menso. What am I doing? Don’t push her away. Even though I don’t know what that pained look was about.

It’s obvious she’s biting the inside of her cheek, and I wish I knew exactly what she’s thinking—exactly what I did wrong—so I could reverse it.

“Sam, I’m just kidding. I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s okay,” she says, cutting off the apology that didn’t have clear direction. “I’m teasing too. I would never tell Griffin about that. You have done a lot for me, and bringing the gas can to you that day was the least I could do in return. Your secret’s safe with me.”

Her emphasis on what I’ve done for her sparks understanding that she’s thinking back to her first year here. I assure her, “This is not a lopsided friendship, Sam. And you’re safe with me today. I promise to be on my best silent behavior.”

She bounces back quickly, smiling at me. There’s no crinkle to the corners of her eyes, though, worrying me that she’s still upset. Before I can say anything, Sam declares, “I’m gonna go save our seats. I’ll try to get two spots right inside the door.”

Left alone in the silence of the library, I amble around the space, appreciating the book displays Danae has set up. Finding a Spanish section, I pull a picture book off the shelf and smile to myself as I flip through the pages.

The distinct sound of elementary-aged boys yelling echoes in the hallways, so I move to make sure I’m out of view of the small windows in the library doors, slyly watching the rambunctious parade of kids. It’s easy to spot Jason’s fire-red hair pass by, and for as much as today started as covertly getting more time around Sam, I really am glad to be here to watch Jason. His life hasn’t been a walk in the park, so he deserves a big celebration for making it this far.

After the clamor dies down, I slink closer to the door, peering out the window. The coast looks clear, so I ease the door open and casually walk down the hallway, following Danae’s directions. There’s a couple coming in from the front doors, but they don’t give me a second glance as they hurry into the room. Stepping inside, I see Sam immediately. She scoots over, and I take the seat next to her.

I’m assuming this is the space they also use as the lunchroom, considering the food service carts pushed to one side. The overhead lights are dim, all eyes focused on the swarm of fifth graders crowding the risers on the small stage.

Jason stands in the second row, searching the crowd. He beams and waves when his eyes snag on Griffin and Danae up front. There must be some onions leftover from yesterday’s lunch in here because my eyes suddenly burn as I think about my best friend stepping into the stepfather role. Griffin is beyond happy about it, and Jason is getting the best man I could possibly think of as a father figure.

Jason’s grin nearly splits his face when he catches my eye. I grin back at him, and he starts to raise a hand but then jams it into his pocket. Danae will be pleased that her lectures about not calling attention to me seemed to sink in.

“He was totally smiling at me,” Sam whispers, a teasing glimmer in her eye. At least things between us seem to be back to normal, even if business-as-usual isn’t where I’d like to be with Sam anymore.

I lean over to whisper in her ear, “Keep telling yourself that, cielo.”

The two fifth-grade teachers share a few remarks about the classes overall, and then they pass out awards to each of the kids recognizing something unique about them. When Jason’s name is called, his teacher says, “And the Sensational Savant award goes to Jason, for having an impressive depth of knowledge about all things baseball and Harry Potter.”

Everyone claps as Jason steps forward to take the certificate. Griffin and Danae smile at each other before Danae focuses on taking photos. Baseball and Harry Potter—their two worlds colliding in this special kid.

Sam claps exuberantly, and I nudge her with an elbow. “Calm down over there,” I whisper. “You’re gonna be the one attracting attention.”

After all the kids have received a certificate, they join the adults in the audience to watch a slideshow of photos on the projector screen. Jason sits sandwiched between Danae and Griffin, and the sight is enough to make anyone with a human heart emotional. Sam sniffs next to me, and my muscles twitch with the desire to put my arm around her shoulders.