Angel of Redemption

by J. A. Little

  “Hi, Rebecca.”

  I make my way over to the coffee station along the wall and pour a cup. I wonder if I should make one for Kayla, too, but decide against it. That would probably look weird. I’ve been in this room before with other social workers and not once have I bothered to make any one of them a cup. Thinking back on it, I feel like an asshole.

  “Would you like anything while I’m over here?” I ask.

  She glances up and smiles at me. “No, I’m good, but thank you. How have you been?”

  “Livin’ the dream,” I answer like the smart-ass I am. I sit down, and she hands me a collated packet of papers. It’s a collection of reports from each of Matty’s teachers listing his strengths and areas of concern. “Wow, these are optimistic,” I grumble sarcastically, flipping through them. “Do you think he needs special education services?”

  “I don’t know, Dean,” Rebecca sighs.

  “Well, I do.” She’s interrupted by Tyson Keens, the hard-assed English teacher who gives most of my boys a hard time. He teaches ninth-grade English and creative writing, and twelfth-grade AP English. Logan is currently acing that class, and I’ve been told that Brayden is doing well in the creative writing course, so you’d think he wouldn’t be such a dick to them, but he is. I think that’s just his nature.

  Keens doesn’t like me at all. He’s one of the people who thinks my history does more harm than good for the kids. He told me once that the boys talk about me as though I were a big brother or a friend. In his opinion, I’m setting them up for a future of drugs and prison because I make it look cool.

  For a long time, I questioned whether or not he was right. I even sought my dad’s advice. He disagreed with Keens. He said I show the boys that, no matter where they’ve come from in life, it’s their decisions that pave the way for their future. I was given everything, but that didn’t stop me from making stupid decisions. And yet, when I hit rock bottom, I was able to drag my ass back up. I’m not sure if he was insulting me or complimenting me, but I guess the point is that he believes Keens is full of shit. And now I do, too.

  “Look, Dean,” he says without an actual greeting. “He’s failing. It’s our responsibility as educators to do everything we can to prevent that. And it’s your responsibility as his caregiver to support his educational needs.”

  “Has he been evaluated?” I ask.

  “Can we wait until all parties are present, please?” Rebecca says with an edge to her voice.

  Keens looks at her and then at me. “Who else are we expecting?”

  “His social worker and Debra.” Debra Baker is the history teacher who caught him cheating.

  Keens glances at his watch. “I have exactly forty-five minutes before my AP class starts.” He pours himself a cup of coffee and grabs the packet that Rebecca is holding out for him before sitting down.

  Seconds later, Kayla walks through the door. She’s got a Starbucks cup in her hand and a frazzled look on her face, but when our eyes meet, she smiles.

  “Hello, Mr. Wyatt.”

  “Good morning, Ms. Brooks. Nice to see you again.”

  “Likewise.”

  Kayla greets both Rebecca and Keens, who looks her over with too much focus for my liking. I clear my throat and, without acknowledging me, his eyes dart away. Kayla sits down across from me and begins reading through the information. Debra blows in, apologizing profusely for being late.

  “Give me two seconds and we can start,” she breathes. “My sub was a little overwhelmed by the chaos of a group project.”

  The room is silent except for the sound of papers rustling. I’ve already scanned through them, but I pretend to do it again. I can feel Kayla’s eyes on me, but I don’t look at her. That is, until I feel a sharp pain in my shin. I snap my head up to find her grinning at me.

  “Your hair,” she mouths, pointing to her own head before giving me a thumbs-up and a wink. I’m confused at first, but when I put my hand up to my head, I realize what she’s talking about. I didn’t put my hat on this morning. I’ve got “sex hair.” I laugh out loud, making everyone else in the room look up at me. Kayla puts her hand over her mouth and snickers. Keens frowns at us.

  “Okay, let’s get started,” Rebecca announces.

  We go over each report. I find myself getting agitated by the negative tone of the meeting. I can only imagine how Kayla’s feeling right now.

  “As you can see, each of his teachers reports similar issues.”

  “It all comes down to identifying the extent of his learning disabilities and developing a plan to work with them,” Keens announces.

  “I honestly don’t think he has learning disabilities,” Kayla challenges.

  “With all due respect, Ms. Brooks, I think that maybe you’re too emotionally invested to see things clearly.”

  “Of course I’m emotionally invested,” Kayla bites. “Every time I turn around, someone is calling him difficult or stupid or telling him he’s got a learning disability.” She narrows her eyes pointedly.

  “So, what do you suggest then? Like I told Dean, he’s failing. He can’t continue like this.”

  “We’ve been checking his homework,” I interrupt. “He’s not having a problem at home. He does it quickly and quietly, and we rarely have to correct anything.”

  “And that’s true,” Debra adds. “When he turns it in, it’s done correctly, but he’s not testing well, so I have concerns about what he’s actually learning.”

  “Maybe he just doesn’t test well,” Kayla suggests.

  “He needs to be evaluated,” I insist. “We’re sitting here having this discussion before anything has even been confirmed.”

  “I’m more worried about the change of behavior in the last few weeks,” Rebecca says. “Kayla, correct me if I’m wrong, but there were no reports of behavioral issues with Matty before he started at this school, were there?”

  Kayla shakes her head. “He’s had panic attacks, which have caused complications, but no outright defiance.”

  “And now he’s arguing with authority figures, fighting with classmates, and cheating on tests. Something deeper is going on.”

  “I think so, too,” Kayla agrees. She looks over at me. “Logan?”

  I nod. “Yeah.”

  “Logan is Matty’s lifeline,” Kayla explains. “Matty doesn’t know what to do without him. This is the first time in his life that he’s ever had to consider not having Logan around as a possibility. I’m not sure he knows how to process it.”

  “As much as I understand that those types of things factor into it, that’s not my area of expertise. I’m here to make sure that he gets what he needs educationally,” Keens says, opening up his hands and shrugging.

  “I’ll make an appointment at the learning center to get him evaluated,” Kayla responds flatly. I can tell she’s fighting back a sneer, and I wish I were on the other side of the table so I could touch her. I settle for boxing her foot in-between mine. The corner of her mouth twitches, and her eyes flicker toward me for a split-second, letting me know she knows what I’m doing.

  “That sounds like a good plan,” Rebecca nods. “I’d also like your permission to talk to him a couple of times a week during homeroom.”

  Kayla and I both agree that talking to someone who isn’t us could potentially help him.

  The meeting wraps up with a plan to meet again in four weeks. That should give us enough time to complete a learning assessment and see if Matty will open up to Rebecca.

  As we’re walking out the front doors, Kayla grabs my arm, wrapping her fingers around my bicep and leaning her head against my shoulder.

  “What’s the matter?” I ask.

  “Nothing. Just one of those days.”

  “What happened?”

  Kayla takes a deep breath. “Andy told me this morning that he’s dating my best friend.”

  “Sara or Warren?” I chuckle at my own joke and Kayla slaps my chest.

  “Sara, you jerk.”

  �
�I’m sorry. I couldn’t help it. Is that a bad thing?”

  “No. I guess not. It just took me by surprise. He said they’ve been seeing each other for a couple of months, but it wasn’t serious.”

  “And now it is?” We stop at her car and she leans against it, nodding. “Are you upset that he didn’t tell you earlier?”

  “No. Not really. Maybe.”

  A gust of wind hits us, blowing several loose strands of Kayla’s hair into her face. She tosses her head a few times, but they keep falling back. I reach forward and slip them behind her ear, brushing my thumb across her cheek and down her neck before pulling my hand back.

  “What’d Sara say?”

  “I haven’t talked to her yet. She wasn’t in the office when I dropped by before the meeting. They both deserve to be happy, though, and by the look on Andy’s face when he told me he thought he was falling in love with her…” Kayla looks down and sniffs, and a tear falls from her eye. Pulling her into a hug, I kiss the top of her head.

  “It’ll be okay, sweetheart,” I assure.

  “I know,” she laughs. “I’m being stupid. I’m happy for them.”

  The shrill bell announcing the end of classes rings, breaking us apart. I run my hand through my hair, scratching the back of my head. Kayla wipes at her eyes and grins.

  “Sex hair?” I waggle my eyebrows at her.

  “Definitely sex hair,” she giggles. As much as I want to stay with her, I have things I absolutely have to get done.

  “I have to go,” Kayla sighs, beating me to the punch. “I have to drive to Ely tomorrow, which is a wash of a day, so I need to get some paperwork done today.”

  “What’s in Ely?” I ask curiously.

  “I placed one of my risk-adopt babies there a few months ago.” Kayla wrinkles her nose.

  “What?” I ask. “It’s a baby, right? Can’t be that bad. Don’t you like babies?”

  “Yeah, I like babies, it’s just…he bites.”

  I laugh and shake my head. “Well, have fun with your biter baby. If I don’t talk to you before you go, drive safe.”

  The two-minute warning bell rings and a couple of kids run by us, smelling strongly of weed. Kayla rolls her eyes at them and then puts her hand on my chest, fiddling with the zipper on my coat.

  I startle slightly, which pisses me off. I’ve been working on breaking the habit. Being on edge helped me in the joint—I was always on guard against being jumped—but in the real world, it makes me look like a freak. It’s been seven years; it’s time for me to get a grip. Plus, I love it when she touches me, and I don’t want to flinch away from her.

  Ever since she kissed me—and then walked into my kitchen wearing nothing more than my T-shirt and asked about my ink—it’s been a battle not to think about her every second of the day. I feel guilty for the way I reacted—my outburst about other women. It was out of fear, not anger. I haven’t felt that vulnerable in a really long time. Kayla’s already passed too many barriers. She’s under my skin, and it doesn’t seem to matter how much I fight it. I’m falling for her.

  The final bell shrieks, and she pulls her hand back with a sigh.

  “You going to be okay?” I ask.

  “Yes, I’ll be fine. Thank you. I’ll see you later?”

  I nod. “Absolutely.”

  Chapter 27

  Dean

  “So everything is cleared up with the Curtis-and-Jax situation?”

  Emily and I are having lunch with my father downtown—an impromptu check-in on his part.

  “Yeah, Dad. Everything has been taken care of. All caseworkers and attorneys informed. All paperwork filed.”

  “Are you sure?”

  I must look irritated, because Emily jumps right in. “Yes, Joe. Dean and Aiden handled everything by the book.”

  “It’s not that I don’t trust you, son. You know how I get this time of year. I need all three of you at the first-quarter meeting with the board next week. I want to go into the gala with everyone confident and assured. I’m proposing an additional Wyatt House scholarship this year.”

  I perk up a little. Both Brayden and Logan are graduating and aging out, and they both have so much potential. Another scholarship increases the likelihood that both will get some financial help—assuming they go to college. It’s not just Wyatt House kids that are eligible, though. Any former foster child in the state of Minnesota between the ages of eighteen and twenty-one who is attending college can apply. We get about fifty applications a year, and right now we have four scholarships available.

  My dad takes a bite of his salad, and then wipes his napkin over his mouth. “How’s Simon working out so far?”

  I let out a sound that I can’t even describe. Emily chokes on her iced tea, laughing. My father’s expression is confused and slightly mystified. I wave him off.

  “He’s doing just fine, Joe,” Emily says, slapping my arm. “He came in with a bit of an attitude, but he’s getting better. The kids are testing him, although that’s to be expected.”

  My dad turns toward me and raises his eyebrows. He wants to know what my problem is. Well, Dad, you see, I think he’s an arrogant douche who tried to put the moves on the woman I think I’m falling for but am too chickenshit to go after, and I’m really worried that she may get tired of my moody ass and actually go out with him.

  “I think he’s still an asshole, but I guess he’s doing his job.”

  “Good. It will be nice to have Tracey and Bill at the gala together this year. You think he’ll be ready by then?”

  “That’s two weeks away, Dad. If he’s not ready by then, he’s getting fired.”

  My dad laughs as though I’m joking. Emily knows better, though. I’m completely serious. I plan on handing him the night-shift reins by next week at the latest.

  “Speaking of the gala.” My dad shifts in his seat and takes a sip of wine. “Your mother wanted me to make sure you have a date, Dean. She has a young lady in mind—”

  “I’ve got one.”

  “You do?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Do you mind if I ask who?”

  I lift my drink to my mouth and take a gulp before answering. “I’m taking Kayla.”

  He nods, the corners of his mouth turning up slightly. “Wonderful. I’ll let your mother know she can stop playing matchmaker.”

  Emily looks on happily, not surprised in the slightest. Kayla must have told her.

  “We’re just friends,” I mumble for no apparent reason.

  We continue eating, Emily and my dad discussing something about an article in a newspaper or magazine while I zone out. My phone buzzes in my pocket, and, though I know my dad hates it, I pull it out to look.

  I’m in hell jsyk

  Why? Are you okay?

  The fifteen seconds it takes her to respond are too long.

  I’m fine. ;-P Ever been 2 Ely?

  I let out a relieved breath. She’s playing.

  It’s on my bucket list.

  LMAO. You’re funny, Mr. Wyatt.

  I try. On your way home?

  Yours or mine?

  I know she’s just playing with me. I try to come up with something witty, but I’ve got nothing. Fortunately, before I can give her some boring answer, she moves on.

  Leaving ASA I fill my gas tank. Weird guy is staring at me.

  Why does she tell me shit like that?

  Get in your car and lock the door.

  You sound like my brother. It’s fine.

  Ten seconds later.

  In my car, doors locked, driving away. Happy?

  Very. Call me when you get home.

  Will do, sweet cheeks.

  I snort at her term of affection and slide my phone back into my pocket. Looking up, I see that Emily and my dad are watching me.

  “What?”

  My dad shakes his head and goes back to his salad. “Nothing.”

  * * *

  “Santiago and the guys got me a car!” Logan shouts, bursting into the d
en just after dinner on Thursday night. All the boys are watching television, but Logan’s announcement brings them all out of their TV trance. Emily and I, who are waiting for Aiden to show up for the night shift, look at each other in surprise.

  “What?” I ask.

  “A car. They got me a car.”

  “They…bought you a car?”

  “Well, no, not exactly. They picked it up from a junkyard for, like, fifty bucks. She’s got a great body, so they said they’d help me fix her up. I get all the parts at cost. Santi said it was the best way for me to learn how everything worked.”

  “What kind?” Brayden asks, his voice almost as excited as Logan’s.

  “It’s an old Honda. They said I could trick it up, too. Give it a souped-up engine. I think I’m gonna paint it dark blue. It’s gonna go so fucking fast, man. I’ll blow Ace’s motherfucking Nissan out of the water.”

  I can feel my throat growing dry and all the blood draining from my face. The boys are talking excitedly, but I don’t even hear them anymore. The voices in the room turn into screeching tires and crunching metal in my head. Emily grips my wrist, trying to get me to focus, but I can’t. There’s no way I can let this happen.

  “Absolutely not!” I shout.

  “Dean,” Emily whispers. The boys all turn their heads to face me.

  “No, Logan. No car.”

  “Dean, stop! Come with me for just a second,” Emily begs, standing up. I get up, but completely ignore her. Logan looks at me like I’ve just insulted him.