Good

by S. Walden

  Mr. Connelly perused her work and nodded. “Alaina? You have a 98 average in this class.”

  “I know,” she said. “I thought I’d come to help the others.”

  “Well, that’s awfully nice of you,” he said, “to give up your free time like that.”

  “I think maybe having a girl explain math to another girl can be helpful,” Alaina said. “We speak, like, a completely different language.”

  “I see,” Mr. Connelly replied, and he moved on to the next group.

  “I don’t think I get it, Alaina,” I said once Mr. Connelly was gone.

  Alaina huffed and turned to Callie sitting to her left, completely ignoring me. “So anyway, I told Brent he better start manning up if he thinks he has a shot at making this work.”

  I went back to my worksheet, staring at it, trying to read a language I didn’t comprehend.

  After tutoring, I hung back to talk to Mr. Connelly.

  “So what do you think, Cadence?” he asked, cleaning the board with a wet paper towel.

  “I think I’m stupid,” I mumbled.

  He tossed the paper towel and walked over to me.

  “You’re not stupid. Don’t ever say that,” he said gently. “Wanna show me what’s still got you hung up?”

  “Number three,” I replied. “I figured out the others.”

  “Number three? Didn’t Alaina help you with that one?” he asked, squatting beside me at my desk.

  “Uh, yeah,” I replied sarcastically.

  He paused and looked at my face. I stared at him emotionless. If I cried in front of him one more time, then I would never ever ever go back to school. Freaking ever.

  “All right. Flip to a clean page in your notebook there,” he began, and I stayed another twenty minutes until I understood why the answer was 6x + 7.

  If Mondays didn’t suck enough. Dean finally came back to school. I expected him the previous Monday but was glad to discover that I still had a little time left before I had to dodge him in the hallways and classes. I figured if I kept my head down and walked quickly, I’d never have to see him or hear his stupid voice.

  Until I discovered that the empty locker beside mine was assigned to him. Are you freaking kidding me?

  “Uh, hey, Cadence,” Dean said, approaching me tentatively. I threw my books in my locker and slammed the door.

  I turned to leave.

  “Wait!” Dean said, grabbing my arm.

  “Don’t do that,” I replied, looking down at my arm. He released me immediately.

  “Sorry. Look—” He pushed his hand through his blond hair. “—I’m supposed to apologize and stuff.”

  Apologize and stuff? This guy was a real idiot. Suddenly I felt like an idiot for liking him. And kissing him. And letting him see my bare breasts only to be told that he thought they were bigger and did I wear a padded bra.

  “I don’t need your apology,” I said.

  “Well, you’re getting it. It’s on the list my parents put together,” Dean replied.

  I stared at him for a moment, and then my lips curled into a grin.

  “Your parents put together a list for you?”

  Dean shrugged and grinned himself. “It’s so lame.”

  “Uh, yeah.”

  “Wanna see it?” he asked.

  I relaxed and nodded. Oh, what the hell? I was curious.

  Dean handed me a folded piece of paper he kept tucked in his back pocket. I opened it and read quickly. There were several names of people he was expected to apologize to, a list of rules he had to follow while at school, and a bunch of “penance” chores he was required to do on a daily basis when he got home from school.

  I shook my head. “And I thought I had it bad.”

  Dean snorted. “Senior year is supposed to be awesome, right?”

  Yes, it was. It was supposed to be an awesome year with Gracie.

  “My mom drives me to school and picks me up,” Dean went on.

  “You can’t even take the bus? At least I can take the bus.”

  Dean chuckled and then hung his face. “I am really sorry, Cadence,” he whispered. “I’m not telling you that because it’s on my list.”

  I tensed.

  “I shouldn’t have offered you any drugs.”

  “You shouldn’t have had any drugs,” I said.

  “Well, I like drugs, okay?” he replied. “I’m trying to be better.”

  “Hmm.”

  “I’m sorry I got you involved in that whole robbery thing,” he continued.

  Surprisingly, I really didn’t care about the robbery thing. I was more concerned with the make-out session.

  “You said some pretty mean things to me when we were going at it,” I said.

  “Really? I don’t remember,” he replied.

  Of course he didn’t remember. He was high as a kite. I was high, too, but I remember saying over and over to myself as his lips sucked my neck, Remember this moment, Cadence. Don’t ever forget it. It’s a special, magical moment.

  I burst out laughing.

  Dean looked up sharply. “What?”

  “Nothing,” I mumbled, shaking my head.

  “No, tell me.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Fine. I was just thinking about how I thought it was so magical kissing you when I was high.”

  “And now that you’re sober?”

  I smirked. “What do you think?”

  Dean cocked his head. “Fair enough. I don’t even remember it.”

  “Fair enough,” I replied. “I wish I could forget it.”

  “Fair enough. Are we done here?”

  “Yes,” I snapped, and started making my way through the crowded hallway.

  “Cadence, wait!” I heard from behind. I felt a hand go around my arm once more, forcing me to stop.

  “What Dean?”

  “You never accepted my apology,” he said. “You need to accept it. I’ve gotta mark this off my list.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, really. Will you just say you forgive me?”

  “Just a second ago you told me you weren’t apologizing to me because of the list. And now you need to mark it off?”

  “Look, I’m an asshole, okay? What do you want from me? I don’t remember making out with you. I’m sure it was great. Can you just get over yourself and say you forgive me?”

  “You said my breasts were small!” Thank God the hallway was crowded and impossibly loud. I’ve no idea why that came out of my mouth.

  Dean shook his head and looked at my chest. “I like big tits, okay? I’m sorry. What does that have to do with the drugs and the robbery?”

  “Nothing,” I barked. “And quit looking at me.”

  “Fine, Cadence,” Dean said. “Look, I’m trying to make things right. But if you wanna be immature about it . . .”

  “Me immature? Are you freaking kidding me?”

  “The bell’s gonna ring, Cadence. And I have to get to class. Some of us are trying to care about school and to be better people.”

  I laughed. “You really are an asshole.”

  “I know. Now am I gonna have to ask you every day from now until we graduate, or will you just give me a break?”

  I shook my head. “Fine. I forgive you, but I hope you know it’s only so that you can mark it off your stupid list.”

  “Good enough for me.”

  “And I don’t want you talking to me between classes.”

  “Had no plans to.”

  “And I want to forget you even exist.”

  “Same goes for you.”

  We shook hands and went our separate ways.

  ***

  “Pack your bag, sista, ‘cause you’re spending the night with me Friday,” Avery said, taking the seat beside mine at lunch.

  “I am?”

  “Uh huh. I called your mom last night. Told her about my latest community service project. She offered you to help.”

  “Gee, that was nice of her,” I replied.

  “It
was nice of her. It means you get out of the house all weekend.”

  “Where to?” I asked.

  “There are a few houses on the east side of town we’re gonna clean up. Minor house repairs. Lawn stuff. Some light cleaning.” She leaned in and whispered apologetically, “It’s for poor people.”

  I rolled my eyes. “I gathered as much.”

  “Pack your work clothes.”

  I nodded. “Who all is helping out?”

  “Well, Gracie will be there.”

  My heart clenched.

  “And Amber, Alex, Seth, Robin, Toby. And Dean.”

  I groaned.

  “I thought you two came to an understanding,” Avery said.

  “Doesn’t mean I wanna see him on the weekends.”

  “Well, suck it up,” Avery said. “And there’ll be some adult volunteers, too.”

  “Who?”

  “Um, Mr. and Mrs. Sunders. Abbey’s parents. Mr. Connelly . . .”

  My heart clenched again. Why would Mr. Connelly help out on a youth group project? I don’t even think he was a member of the church. Did he volunteer because he knew I was back in youth group?

  I laughed.

  “What?” Avery asked.

  “Nothing,” I mumbled. “I’m just a self-absorbed idiot.”

  “Yeah? You and every other jackass in this cafeteria,” she replied.

  I scowled at her, and she grinned.

  “We’re gonna have fun, Cadence,” she said. “And you get to be away from your house for an entire weekend. You’re even coming to church with me Sunday.”

  I smiled. I liked the idea of being away from home. And I especially liked the idea of seeing Mr. Connelly over the weekend. I only ever saw him in casual clothes once. I wanted to see him dressed like that again.

  “Am I going home with you after school Friday?” I asked.

  “Are you driving yet?”

  “Only on Tuesdays and Thursdays.”

  “Then I guess I’ve gotta take your sorry ass home with me.”

  ***

  Avery’s bedroom was really cool. I was slightly jealous when I walked in. Her ceiling was covered from corner to corner with paper lamps. They hung at different heights, some so low that I could reach up and touch them if I stood on my tiptoes. Her room glowed with soft shades of yellow, orange, and pink. Fiery colors, I thought. Colors that matched Avery’s personality.

  “Where’d you get all of these?” I asked.

  “I collect them,” she replied. “Actually, Mom started the collection when I was a baby, and then I took over when I got older.”

  “They’re beautiful,” I said.

  “Thanks. Makes it bearable to be at home,” she said.

  “You make it sound like your parents are controlling monsters,” I said.

  Avery dumped her purse and book bag in a corner chair. “They’re not. My parents are cool, but their rules are just so freaking ridiculous. I mean, I’m a student leader in youth group, know what I’m saying? When are they gonna ease up a bit? I’ve never given them any reason not to trust me.”

  “But you lie to them all the time,” I pointed out.

  “So what? They don’t know that,” Avery said. “They know church girl Avery, good girl Avery, good manners Avery, good student Avery—”

  “I get it.”

  “It’s really their fault I’ve gotta sneak around like this.”

  “Is it?” I asked.

  “Yes,” Avery replied, ignoring my sarcasm. “It’s like that thing about kids.”

  “What thing?”

  “Let them play outside with no fence, and they’ll stay near you. Put up a fence, and they’re smashed up against it, trying to get out.”

  “Hmm. Maybe it’s just human nature to be defiant,” I offered. “We don’t wanna be hemmed in by rules. We want to make our own decisions.”

  “Yeah, that makes sense. Rebellious spirits,” Avery said. “Or maybe it’s just the smart ones who have rebellious spirits.”

  “Well, I think I’m smart, and I don’t have a rebellious spirit,” I argued.

  “Bullshit. If you didn’t you wouldn’t be here,” Avery pointed out.

  “I’m not rebellious. I’m desperate.”

  Avery sighed. “Me. Too.”

  I sat down on her bed. “You’re going to a lot of trouble to get some extra time with Gavin.”

  “I know,” she said.

  “A whole weekend doing manual labor,” I went on.

  “I know.”

  “Is he worth it?”

  “Is your ice cream cone worth it?”

  I gave her a level look. She giggled.

  “The next ones won’t actually be real, you know,” she said. “Service projects, that is.”

  I nodded.

  “You have some place to go when we’re off on a weekend-long ‘project’?”

  I didn’t think about that, and automatically shook my head.

  Avery huffed. “We so need to get you a boyfriend.”

  ***

  I made Avery promise that I wouldn’t have to clean bathrooms. I didn’t mind anything else, but my ten months in juvenile hall scarred me for life when it came to bathrooms. It was difficult enough just cleaning my own.

  “Cadence, I’ll take care of you, okay?” she said, running her eyes over her clipboard. We were standing on the corner of Barry Street waiting for the others to arrive. Most were already here, including Gracie and her mother, who pretended I didn’t exist. I had a sudden urge to run up to them and scream in their faces. It was a very weird, very strong impulse, and I bugged Avery with questions to avoid acting on it.

  “So what am I doing then?” I asked, fingering the hole in my ratty Crestview High T-shirt. I paired it with equally ratty jeans and old running shoes. I know.

  “There are never enough women volunteers for these things,” Avery muttered.

  “Are you listening to me?”

  Avery looked up from her roster. “You’re like an irritating fly. Go away.”

  “Avery!”

  She headed for a group of grown men. Mr. Connelly was among them. I didn’t notice when he arrived, but now that he was here, I couldn’t take my eyes off of him. He wore a pair of blue Dickies with a gray long-sleeve T-shirt. It hugged his body snuggly, highlighting toned arms and a tight chest. His typical Converse All Stars were replaced by a pair of old Timberlands. He rocked major bed-head, and suddenly a new impulse surfaced to replace the one I had about screaming in Gracie’s face: I wanted to run up to Mr. Connelly and put my fingers in his hair. I wanted to grab his hair, pull his face down to mine, and force him to kiss me.

  “Oh, Lord,” I breathed.

  “Everyone! Over here!” Avery called, and I walked over to the group, standing as far away from Mr. Connelly as I could. “Okay, here’s how it’s gonna go. I’m pairing up the teens with adults. The easiest, most efficient way to get all this done today is to work as teams. Teens, you’ll take direction from the adults you’re paired with. Adults, you’ll take direction from me.”

  A few chuckles. I had to admit that Avery was really good at organizing and leading. If I had to address this crowd of thirty people, I’d be nothing but sweaty armpits and stuttering sentences.

  “Okay. I’ve already handed out the “to do” lists to all the adults. It’s super important that you get all the items on your list checked off before the sun goes down. We’ve got six houses, people. We can totally do this,” Avery said. “Now listen for your teams. Team 1: Mr. Sunder, Dean, and Gracie. Team 2: Mr. Wallace, Adrian, and Lizzie. Team 3: Mr. and Mrs. Rollings, Seth, and Abbey. Team 4: Mr. Clemish and Mrs. Grayson, Toby, and Amber . . .”

  I listened patiently for my name, happy to have avoided being paired with Gracie and her mom, but growing increasingly nervous about the names not yet called.

  “. . . Team 7: Mr. Connelly, Tate, and Cadence . . .”

  I didn’t know if I’d faint or squeal. I knew I shouldn’t do either and turned my head
when a car drove by. Good distraction. Exactly what I needed to get my emotions under control. Unfortunately, there was nothing I could do about my flushed face. Tate sidled up to me and plopped his arm over my shoulder.

  “Cadence Miller. Prettiest ex-con in all of Atlanta,” he said.

  “Gross. Get off me,” I replied, pushing his arm away.

  Tate was a sleazebag, but he thought he was a smooth operator. He never made fun of me for my juvie stint, but he liked to constantly remind me that I was attractive, and all the more so because of the time I spent behind bars. Apparently, he liked the bad girls. He asked me questions every now and again about my time in jail, but I wouldn’t engage him in conversation. I didn’t want to tell him anything, fearing the information would do nothing but turn him on and make him even more obnoxious.

  “So, what’s the food like in juvie?” he asked.

  I ignored him.

  “Do you have, like, recess or playtime? Or what is it called? Yard time?”

  Still ignoring.

  “Do you girls shower together? Do you help each other wash?”

  “Tate, shut up.”

  “Hey guys,” Mr. Connelly said, walking up to us.

  “Hey,” we said in unison, and I rolled my eyes.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you at Crestview, Tate,” Mr. Connelly said.

  “I don’t go there. I go to South Hampton,” Tate replied.

  “The preparatory school always talked about in the papers?” Mr. Connelly asked.

  “That’s the one,” Tate replied, looking smug.

  I forgot to mention that Tate went to one of the most expensive and prestigious private high schools in Atlanta. His family was loaded which I guess, gave him license to act like a douchebag. For the most part he was harmless, but I feared one day he’d put his mouth on me without permission simply because it wouldn’t occur to him to ask first.

  “Well, I imagine you work very hard,” Mr. Connelly said.

  “Not really,” Tate replied.

  Mr. Connelly looked at me, and I grinned. He grinned back like he knew what I was thinking. He showed Tate and me our “to do” list. We, along with Team 2, were in charge of Fanny Burken’s house.

  “Ready?” Mr. Connelly asked.