Keeping Score

“All right,” I caved. Hunter was one of those kids who was quiet. He’d rather bury his head in a book than play kick ball or tag.

He settled into his desk and pulled up a mystery ghost story from his backpack. I pulled out my chair and finally braved my phone. I pulled a news page and started skimming for a headline.

I had been nervous all day. I wondered if there would be news about Hawk. I wondered if I would be called in. Would he need me to testify? Would he have a fair judge? Should I try to call his attorney and offer to make a statement?

I looked up when I heard the shuffle of more feet enter the classroom. Recess was over. I sighed when the bell rang overhead. Another day gone. Another lesson taught. The students rushed in, grabbing their back packs and lunch boxes before lining up by the door. I hurried them down the hall to the carpool line and then to the bus line, dropping them off along the way.

I returned to the classroom and smiled at Hunter.

“So what club do you have today?” I asked, patting him gently on the shoulder.

He shrugged just slightly from my touch. Over time I have gotten used to his aversion of being close to other people. But there were moments when I could reach out. Show him warmth.

There were a variety of programs set up at the education center for underprivileged kids and their families after school. There was everything ranging from ballet and gymnastics to soccer and swimming.

“I don’t know.” He looked at the floor. “Football I guess?”

I felt a small wave of relief. Today would be a good day. I wouldn’t have to prod and convince him. Normally he chose not to participate in any of the clubs, but for some reason football had sparked his interest.

I hoped it pulled him out of his shell.

Something had to work.

“Well, come on then.”

We scurried through the maze of halls past my third grade classroom door and out the exit door to the playground, where just a few minutes ago I had spotted Hunter watching the other kids play.

I couldn’t say what the exact date was that I decided Hunter was going to be my project. Or when I decided that I would do everything I could to watch over him and protect him. It just sort of happened. Like when the leaves changed in fall. It happened in front of my eyes day after day until I was the one responsible to pick him up in the morning from the foster home where he stayed. I enrolled him in the center’s community club program and was responsible for returning him home at the end of the day.

Some days I kept him a little late and we’d get dinner. Or if we had an early release day I’d take him to a movie.

One look at those big green eyes and a face that was constantly covered in smudges. Shaggy blond hair that fell into his eyes and my heart fell for this kid.

“Have fun, Hunter. I’ll be inside grading the writing assignments, ok?”

He had wandered to the outside of the circle. I was worried he might not make it inside the group and would spend the afternoon on the perimeter. I couldn’t hover. I couldn’t intervene every time. I knew that.

“Excuse me, Julie?” I heard some call my name and I turned on my heels.

Raising my hand to my forehead, I blocked the sun from my eyes and squinted trying to get a better view of the person with that deep booming voice. But I knew who it came from before he came into focus.

Seven

Kane

“You are Julie Bristow? This has to be a fucking joke.”

I stared at the woman I had defended last night. But instead of tight cutoff shorts and a barmaid apron, she was wearing heels, a pencil skirt, and a cardigan.

“Oh God.” Her mouth dropped open.

I chuckled. This was fucking sweet.

“What are you doing here, Hawk?” she hissed, tugging me away from the group of children near her.

“Reporting for community service. You are my sentence.” I felt a primal urge kick in. Something from last night was unearthed when I laid eyes on this angel-turned-devil again.

“I don’t get it. What are you talking about?” she asked.