“You’re way too close. Your eyes are gonna like, explode or something,” I tell Leah as I plop down in the seat in front of her desk. Denae, her assistant, appears in the doorway. She points a red fingernailmy way.
“Same order?”
I nod. “Yep. And I got a text from West saying he wants the same thing, too.”
Denae scribbles on her legal pad. “What about Riley?”
I shrug. “Dunno.”
She drops her arms to her sides in a standing slouch, exacerbated by me. “You eat lunch with her like, almost every day.”
Leah clicks around on her screen before sliding her glasses off her nose, tossing them across a desk full of papers. “Sorry, Dean,” she says with a sigh. She focuses on Denae. “Did you get my usual?”
Denae nods. “Just need Riley’s order.”
Leah looks at me now, too.
I roll my eyes, get out my phone, and call Jake. He answers on the first ring. “What’s up bud? Everything okay?”
“Yeah,” I say, adjusting in the tiny chair. “We’re gettin’ lunch picked up, on Leah, and I need to know Riley’s order from Goode’s.”
He wastes no time in answering. “Chicken salad on wheat with fruit on the side and Diet Coke, light ice.”
“Thanks, man.”
“Sure.”
“Later.”
“Later.” I shove my phone away and repeat the order. Leah glares as Denae writes, then slips out to place the call.
“I wish parent calls could be as simple as two men who are friends.” She uses her male voice, which isn’t all that bad, considering. “Thanks.Sure. Later.Later.” She shakes her head. “Incredible.”
I lean forward, tapping the envelope on her desk. “I talked to all of Tanner’s teachers and got his work together, thoughtif you signed off on it, I could run it by his place tonight. You know, to be helpful.”
In her crossing-guard orange colored suit, she leans back into her chair, running her pen underneath the length of her black beaded necklace. “To be helpful,” she repeats, eyes narrowing, like she’s sniffing out my ulterior motive.
“Yeah,” I reply, scooping a handful of M&Ms from her dish, tipping my head back to empty them in my mouth like a crane dropping its load. Chewing, I say, “his dad isn’t around. He’s got two brothers. All of this is a lot for a single mom.”
Her narrow eyes go wide, and a smirk slowly curves her lips. “You like Clara June.”
“What?” I sit up in my seat, scooping more candy out, trying my best to ignore the bead of sweat slipping down my temple from beneath the band of my hat. “I’m just helping out. Harmless.”
She pulls open the manilla folder and digs out the stack of paper. Before sifting through, she reads the doctor's note after sliding her glasses back on. She slides them down to the tip of her nose, and stares at me over them.
“You were there that night Tanner got hurt, at the hospital I mean, right?” she asks.
I nod. “Of course. He’s my quarterback, Leah.”
She falls into her seat, stacking her heels onto the edge of her desk as she gets comfortable. I like Leah. She’s serious with students and parents, but she doesn’t try to act like because of her title, she’s miraculously smarter and functioning at a higher level. She’s real, always has been.
“So you met Dr. Denton?” her lips curve with the question.
“I met him, yeah. And he tried to lecture Clara June on the dangers of high school football before she even got to seeTanner post triage. The man could use some manners if you ask me.”
She digs around in her drawer, the only one that locks, and produces an old newspaper article from a few months back. She points to an article titled, “HIGH SCHOOL SPORTS: THE SILENT KILLER? BY BARTHOLOMEW DENTON.”
I snort. “Really? I thought fentanyl was the silent killer.”
