Sherryl Woods - Catching Fireflies

“Are you sure this was a good idea?” she murmured as they were shown to a table.

J.C. frowned. “I thought you wanted to come here.”

“I did until I realized that we were going to be on tonight’s menu right along with the specials.”

He glanced around, then sighed. “So we are. Too late to hide now, Laura. The cat’s out of the bag.”

She regarded him with surprise. “You think this is amusing? By tomorrow morning everyone in town will think we’re dating.”

“Anybody in your life going to be furious about that?” he inquired.

“Well, no, but…” She frowned. “It’s not a good idea. I don’t want to answer a million questions. Do you?”

“Hey, you’re my second unplanned date of the day,” he admitted with a rueful expression. “If anyone’s going to be a hot topic over breakfast, it’ll be me. They’ll probably just feel sorry for you getting mixed up with an obvious scoundrel.”

She stared at him incredulously. “What on earth are you talking about?”

He explained about his nurse and her apparent mission to set him up. “End result? First thing tomorrow I have a date to go for a run. I’m not a hundred percent sure how it happened. The words just came out of my mouth, and there I was with a date.”

Laura couldn’t help chuckling. “You’re really bad at not dating, aren’t you? Or is it that you’re easily manipulated?”

“Not until recently. Debra’s sneaky. And then you showed up in my office and before I knew it an innocent invitation came out of my mouth and here we are. Two dates today and one more in the morning. My extended track record as a total stick-in-the-mud has taken a real hit.”

“You don’t sound half as distressed as you should for a man who claims he doesn’t want to date,” she accused lightly.

He shrugged. “Maybe I’m tired of my own company, after all. And we’re here to talk about Misty, so it’s not as if this is a real date.”

“Tell that to everyone in this room currently on their cell phones reporting the news far and wide,” she said.

She could certainly understand why everyone in town would be fascinated with J.C. and consider him a hot prospect. Though he wore his light brown hair in a crew cut, it was evident that it would curl out of control if it grew longer. His compassionate brown eyes were exactly the sort to inspire young patients to confide in him, as Misty almost had. At least she’d sought him out as a trustworthy adult. That had to say a lot about his character.

When Laura glanced across the table, he was studying her, rather than the menu. The intensity of his gaze was disconcerting. She swallowed hard, then gestured toward the list of specials.

“No catfish, so what are you having?”

“The meatloaf’s another favorite of mine,” he said.

She nodded. “Sounds good. I’ll have that,” she said and set the menu aside. “Now tell me what Misty said to you.”

He winced. “I can’t. Doctor-patient confidentiality. I can tell you it was enough to worry me. How about you?”

“She’s been skipping my class and one other.”

He frowned. “But not all of them?”

She shook her head. “No, it seems her math class and mine are the only ones.”

“What’s the connection?”

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out. My gut’s telling me she has a problem with another student, and those are the only two classes they’re both in. I’ll compare notes with Dave Jamison to see if there’s a student who’s a common denominator, but I’d be very surprised if there aren’t several. Small school, and only one AP English class, though there are two of the AP math classes. Not all advanced placement kids excel at both, but many of them do.”

“So that’s not going to narrow it down by much, is it?” he said. “And you haven’t heard rumors about a problem with another student?”

“Cal’s more likely to hear the school gossip than I am,” she admitted. “But he hasn’t heard a word.”

“That’s not good,” J.C. said, his expression filled with unmistakable concern. “For Misty to reach out to me and want a note to get out of school, she’s on edge. I don’t like it.”

“Neither do I,” Laura admitted. “I insisted that she be in class on Monday morning. We’ll see. Something tells me she won’t be. If so, I’ll have no choice but to go to the principal.”

“And then?”

“She’ll be suspended,” Laura said, dismayed. “I was so hoping to avoid that. It’s one thing when a kid breaks the rules for no good reason, but I don’t think that’s true in this instance. I think there’s a real problem.”

“My gut’s telling me the same thing,” J.C. said. “I could speak to the principal with you, even be there if Misty’s called in. Maybe together we could convince the principal to hold off on suspension, try to find some other solution.”

“Have you met Betty Donovan?” Laura inquired. “She doesn’t bend the rules for anyone. I even have to say, I can’t blame her. The next thing you know, every student and parent would be coming up with excuses that they think justify missing classes, that their little darling deserves an exception.”

He smiled. “Definitely a slippery slope,” he agreed. “But right now, I’m only concerned about Misty. She has to be my top priority.”

When she looked into his eyes, she saw real worry there. The depth of his caring surprised—and impressed—her. Maybe a little too much. He was shattering all sorts of first impressions—mostly bad ones. If he wasn’t careful, he was going to start sounding almost human.

4

Going online was a little like being unable to look away from some awful accident you drove past on the highway, Misty thought as she clicked on the social-networking site that Annabelle used to post her latest slurs against Misty. Sure enough, there were more, and they were just as ugly as the ones she’d posted two nights ago and a week before that. Tears stung Misty’s eyes as she read them.

How on earth was she supposed to show her face at school at all? She knew that’s exactly what Annabelle was hoping, that she’d be so humiliated she’d drop out. She also wanted to tarnish Misty’s reputation so badly that it would make Greg look like an idiot if he kept asking her out.

What Annabelle didn’t get was that Greg apparently got turned on by the idea of dating the school’s biggest slut. These posts just made him more determined. He’d left half a dozen messages on her cell phone in the past week. She’d stopped answering and stopped listening to the messages. She just deleted them. She didn’t even tell Katie about Greg’s calls because she was afraid Katie would insist she keep them as some kind of evidence in case things got even nastier.

When she got to Wharton’s Friday night, she could tell from the sympathetic expression on Katie’s face that she’d seen the online posts.

“You looked, didn’t you?” Katie asked.

“So did you,” Misty accused, slipping into the booth.

She glanced around Wharton’s and breathed a sigh of relief. There was no one in here except a couple of older ladies—Frances Wingate, a retired teacher, and Liz Johnson, who was practically a legend in town—eating ice cream. She doubted they paid any attention to the social-networking sites online.

“What did your mom say when you told her you weren’t going to the game?” Misty asked Katie after they’d given their order for burgers and fries to the waitress.

“She was fine with it. I told her I was meeting you here and that I’d be home way before curfew.” She rolled her eyes. “These days that’s nine o’clock, if you can believe it. She probably would have made me leave the stupid game at halftime. She’s still punishing me for skipping school. The grounding ended last week, but I’m pretty sure I’m going to have a curfew till I leave for college.” She gave Misty a warning look. “Let that be a lesson to you.”