"It's okay, really. My ride's on the way. And honestly, I think my tires are beyond any can of foam repair."
"This really blows." Dyed black hair, long on one side, hung over his face in a greasy curtain. "When I find out who did this to you, he won't be bothering you no more."
"Anymore. And thank you. That's sweet of you to worry, but once the school checks surveillance video footage, they'll probably be able to nail the person responsible."
He went stock-still. Too still. "They have cameras out here?"
"Yes, Billy Wade, they do." God, she hated suspecting him of doing anything illegal, but Reis's suspicions still rolled through her mind.
"I could, uh, just give you a ride, you know. My dad's track might not look like much, but it runs real good and has four full tires."
"Your dad's truck looks a lot like my father's Ford."
"Really?" The teen's mask of bored insolence slid away for a rare second. "Your old man drives a beater, too? I wouldn'ta guessed we had anything in common."
He stepped closer. Too close. Into her personal space.
Okay, uncomfortable moment. Step back, keep her composure and take heart in knowing those surveillance cameras would show she hadn't made a single improper move with this kid. Although it saddened her heart that the days had long passed when a teacher could even pat a student on the back. A few pervs had ruined it for everyone else.
She crossed her arms over her chest. "Thank you for the offer, but I have a ride on the way."
"That him?" Billy Wade pointed to the turn lane. And Carson's sparkling truck. That sure wasn't her brother behind the wheel.
Oh boy. Her mama was gonna have some explaining to do. Except that would necessitate showing how much it bothered her that Carson was the one picking her up instead of Chris, and in the middle of all those muddled emotions she was so darn relieved to see Carson driving their way. Four slashed tires, close on the heels of Agent Reis's warning really gave her the creeps.
"I can see why you'd rather go with him." Billy Wade's face returned to surly, a cover for insecurity—she was pretty sure.
The impulse to assert she and Carson were just friends bubbled up, then fizzed in light of better sense. Letting Billy Wade and any other boys around here think she and Carson were dating would work to her advantage. She wasn't much older than these students, so erecting boundaries was all the more important. "Thanks for hanging out to help."
"Sure. Whatever. Nothing else to do."
Billy Wade ambled over toward his father's rusted-out truck, chains on his saggy black pants jangling with each heavy step. He really was a sharp kid with a good heart, and a very real chance of landing in jail someday like his brothers.
Carson's truck shooshed to a stop beside her, hunky fly-boy behind the wheel in a navy-blue windbreaker for sailing and a smile that turned her heart over faster than that big cylinder engine of his.
"I hear you need a lift."
She turned her back on Billy Wade and the new host of worries she couldn't do anything about today.
Her eyes slid from Carson's chest to his scowl—directed right at Billy Wade as the teen continued his badass strut right past his truck and melded into the smoking cluster of other in-school-suspension students.
Nikki circled around to the passenger side and stepped up inside, supple leather warming her. Heated seats? An awesome feature she hadn't been able to afford in her little econo-truck currently on its way to a garage for a set of tires she was hard-pressed to finance. "You can wipe that disapproving look off your face."
Scowl showing no signs of fading, Carson eased his foot off the brake. "He's twice your size and a thug. This so-called 'look on my face' is totally justified."
"Appearances are deceiving." She instinctively defended her student as Carson drove from the lot. "He's a kid who's had a tough start and doesn't stand a chance at making anything of his life if he doesn't get extra help. It's frighteningly easy for a child with problems or special needs to go unnoticed."
He went silent at that for two traffic lights, stopped at the next before turning to her. "What happened to make him fall behind?"
"Dyslexia, which is especially tough to diagnose in a kid with a gifted IQ. He's smart, really smart, which helped him skate by for years with average grades. Add frequent military moves into the mix and it was easy for him to fall through the cracks."
"He's a genius with some kind of disability?"
"It's not as unlikely as you would think. One in three mentally gifted children has some kind of learning disability. The numbers could actually be higher since it's easy for schools to miss out on diagnosing the gifted dyslexic, especially when they're surprised a kid from his background is even passing at all."
"I wouldn't have thought about it that way. It sucks to think how many students could get lost in the system based on misconceptions."
He was being more insightful on the subject than she'd expected. Perhaps she'd been a little quick to judge him based on his silver-spoon background. "There are complexities to the levels and every dyslexic student is different. Basically, we figure out ways to send the information through another channel of the brain, usually a multisensory approach."