Page 43 of Chasing Callie

My heart skips several beats when I pull into the school parking lot and spot Callie’s familiar Rav-4 already parked near the entrance. The sunshine glints off her back windshield, and my palms instantly grow sweaty against the steering wheel.

I’ve only been back in her orbit for a few weeks, and already I’m like some lovesick teenager waiting by his locker hoping to accidentally run into his crush. After ten years, you’d think I’d have more self-control.

You’d be wrong. I’m still head over heels for Callie Mae.

I grab my messenger bag and coffee thermos, taking an extra moment to check my reflection in the rearview mirror. The fact that I’m primping like I’m heading to prom instead of summer school makes me roll my eyes at myself.

“Pathetic, Williams,” I mutter, running a hand through my hair one last time.

A knock on my window nearly sends me through the roof of my car. Mrs. Palmer stands outside with her daughter, Lizzy, both of them grinning at me through the glass. I take a steadying breath and roll down the window.

“Good morning, Mr. Williams!” Lizzy bounces on her toes, her rainbow backpack nearly as big as she is.

“Morning, sunshine.” I nod at Mrs. Palmer. “How’s the ankle? I heard about your hiking mishap.”

She grimaces, shifting her weight off her wrapped foot. “Much better. Though I’ve learned my lesson about texting and trail walking.”

“Good idea.” I open my door. It’s early, but it’s summer and already humid as hell. The moisture is heavy in the air hinting at rain set to come later in the day. “And speaking of walking, I’ll escort this young lady inside while you take it easy.”

“Mommy, can I go with Mr. Williams?” Lizzy pulls at her mom’s sleeve. “Please?”

Mrs. Palmer looks relieved. “That would be wonderful, actually. I’ve been so swollen with this heat.”

“I got it from here. Tell John I said hello.”

Lizzy slips her tiny hand into mine, chattering about the butterfly she saw that morning as we head toward the school entrance. I nod and comment at all the right moments, but my mind is firmly fixed on what might happen when I see Callie.

We called a truce, but what does that look like at school? Will she still avoid me?

The cool air conditioning hits us as we push through the double doors, and I send Lizzy off to hang her backpack. I scan the hallway, searching for that familiar messy ponytail and curves that haunt my dreams.

And as if my desperate thoughts conjured her, she’s suddenly there, standing halfway down the corridor just before the cafeteria doors, staring at her phone like she’s frozen in place. Her face has gone pale, her free hand pressed against her mouth. Even from this distance, I can see she’s shaking.

What the hell?

“I’ll catch you later, Lizzy,” I call, not even checking if the girl heard me as I stride toward Callie. Whatever she’s looking at has her completely absorbed. She doesn’t even notice me approaching until I’m right beside her.

“Morning, sunshine.”

She jumps, her phone almost slipping from her grip. She fumbles, catching it against her chest, quickly shutting the screen off.

“Jesus Christ, Braxton!” Her voice comes out higher than normal. “Make some noise when you walk, would you?”

“Sorry.” I’m not. “Everything okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Her attention darts from me to her phone and back again. “It’s nothing.”

“Nothing doesn’t usually make people look like they’re about to pass out.” I lean in, searching her face. “What’s going on?”

“Like I said, it’s nothing.” She shoves her phone into her back pocket, a tight smile stretching across her face. “Just. . . work drama. Bar stuff.”

She’s lying. I can always tell by the way her left eye twitches when she’s bullshitting. It’s been doing it since we were ten.

“HELP!” The shriek from down the hallway cuts through our conversation. Ms. Jennings bursts through the door, her hands covered in something bright blue. “We have a situation!”

Callie actually looks relieved at the interruption. “What’s wrong?”

“Some of the kids got into the supply closet,” Ms. Jennings explains, panic evident in her voice. “There’s paint everywhere. The floor, the walls, even the ceiling somehow. And the sixth grade summer showcase is this afternoon!”