Beauty and the Baller(54)

Emotion flits over his face, his eyes shiny. He sits down next to me.

“Death sucks,” I say, then lean back on the porch. “Tell me why you left today.”

He looks away from me. “I got mad. Miss Tyler just lets us hang out.” He shrugs. “They say I have anger issues.”

“I understand. Let’s do this again. Hi, Caleb. I’m Nova, and I’d really like it if you came back to my class tomorrow. I might not be a great teacher, but I think it might be entertaining to watch me try to teach Shakespeare. Don’t you?” I smile. “Truth? I’m holding out for the poetry unit. I was thinking we could draw or paint or, I don’t know, pick a song that hits the theme. What do you think? Is that a good idea?”

He shrugs.

“You’re angry about your parents. I’m there with you. And . . . and . . .” I’m not a counselor, but I have thoughts about what he’s going through. “There are some days when it’s overwhelming, and I get pissed that she was taken too soon, that I hadn’t talked to her in three days, that I don’t know how to do the things she did for my sister.”

He stares at the ground.

I sigh. It’s tough to talk when the other person doesn’t talk back. “How do you feel about Dairy Queen?”

“Um, it’s okay, I guess.”

“Wanna go?”

He grimaces. “I can’t be seen with a teacher, Ms. Morgan. Street cred and all.”

“Right, it’s just . . . ice cream solves a lot of problems. Break up with someone, eat an M&M Blizzard; get angry about a loved one passing, eat another one.”

He huffs. “Sounds like a you problem.”

“You’re right.” I rub my hands down my skirt as I stand and pick up my shoes. “Caleb . . . I don’t want to be a pest”—I kind of do—“but I live down the street from you. Every day that I don’t see you, I’m coming back to this house.”

He lets out an exasperated sound as he stands. “Why are you so weird?”

I lean in. “Mama always said, ‘Keep your heart open, even when it feels like breaking.’ Then she’d talk about opening our wings and sing ‘Little Sparrow,’ by Dolly Parton . . . I know that might be odd, too, but the point is . . . I’m where you are, Caleb. We have something in common. Loss. You have scars that people can’t see, but I can because I have them too. I’m on your side, you know. If you want to talk—”

“I have a counselor.”

“All right. I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

“Don’t come back,” he calls.

“No promises! Bye!”

Then he’s gone, shutting the door in my face.





Chapter 14


RONAN

“Hello, darling,” Nova says sweetly as she breezes into the staff lounge. Wearing a tight black leather skirt and a low-cut red blouse that hugs her breasts, she sashays to us and takes the seat next to me. She kisses my cheek, and my face tingles as a small silence fills up the room like it usually does after our PDA in the lounge. We’re at the end of week one of our pretense, and it seems to be working. We play it up in the lounge, darling and babe, then go our separate ways in the field house. I’ve made up my mind to keep her at arm’s length, and so far, it’s working.

She unpacks her lunch and pulls out wrapped cookies. “You forgot these when you left after dinner.” Thick lashes flutter at me. “You ate two before they even cooled last night. You’re so adorable.”

I open the chocolate chip cookies and take a bite and nod appreciatively. “Thanks, babe. You’re the sweetest. I loved that, um, casserole you made.”

“What kind of casserole was it?” Skeeter asks.

“Beef,” Nova says as I say, “Sausage,” at the same time.

Melinda frowns. “Which was it?”

Andrew raises an eyebrow, his eyes darting from me to Nova.

Nova nudges me with her shoulder. “Darling, it was a beef thing with black beans and sour cream and, um . . .”

“Pasta,” I say as she says, “Rice.”

Jesus!

Andrew squints. “Pasta and rice?”

Nova nods. “Yep. That’s right. Both. Very tasty. It was one of Mama’s recipes.”

“So good . . . ,” I add, then squeeze her leg under the table. I chance a glance at her, and her lips are pressed tight, as if she’s trying not to laugh.

Thank God I didn’t have dinner with Skeeter last night . . .

Melinda frowns at me. “It sounds gross. How can you mistake beef for pork?”

“Sometimes a man just thinks about food, Melinda. Images run through your head, and you just want meat,” Skeeter answers for me, around his double hamburger. A drip of mayo gets on his chin, and he wipes it away. He nods approvingly at me. “Builds up that protein so you can stay in shape.”

Nova strokes my arm. There’s a sly look on her face that’s unmistakable. “This guy, hmm, he’s already in great shape.”

I lean into her. “Ah, you’ll make me blush, babe.”

Sonia hoots. “Keep it clean, you bloody deviants; you’re making me horny.”

Skeeter puts a fry in and chews. “Y’all are enough to make a man want a girlfriend. Dinner and cookies. I can get behind that.”