Catching Fireflies. Sherryl Woods
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some kind of an excuse if I stop showing up. I figured a note from you would work. You could tell ’em I have something really, really contagious, right?”
He held her gaze. “Do you have something really, really contagious?”
“No, but—”
“Then you know I can’t do it,” he said, his tone gentle but firm. “Talk to me, Misty. What’s really going on?”
“I’m not going back, that’s all,” she said stubbornly.
J.C.’s antennae went on full alert. He had seen this kind of thing before, kids who were good students who suddenly didn’t want to go to school. He’d seen it in a way that was up close and way too personal. He was instantly determined to get to the bottom of whatever was on this young girl’s mind.
“Is there a specific reason you don’t want to be in school, Misty?” he prodded gently. “The way I heard it from your mom, you’re an outstanding student, taking all sorts of advanced placement classes.”
She shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. I don’t want to be there anymore.”
“What will you do if you don’t go?” he asked reasonably. “I thought when we did your physical you mentioned something about wanting to be a broadcast journalist someday. You’ll need a high school diploma and college for that. You were all excited about the possibility of a scholarship.”
“Like you said, I’m smart. I’ll take the GED and ace it, then get into college someplace far away from Serenity. It might not be a fancy Ivy League school like I was hoping, but that’s okay. It’s a trade-off, but it’ll be worth it. I can do it,” she said earnestly. “Please, Dr. Fullerton. You’ve got to help me out.”
He leveled a look into her troubled eyes. “You know I can’t do that, Misty. Now, why don’t you tell me what’s really going on? Maybe I can help with that.”
Tears rolled down her cheeks, but she stood up, squared her shoulders and headed for the door, her disappointment unmistakable. “Sorry I bothered you.”
“Misty, wait. Let’s talk about this,” he pleaded, not wanting to be one more adult who let her down. She might not be physically ill, but she was clearly deeply disturbed about something. The fact that she’d come to him gave him a responsibility to help in any way he could.
“It’s okay. I knew it was a long shot.” She held his gaze, her expression pleading. “You won’t tell my mom about this, will you? I mean you didn’t really treat me, so it’s not like you’d have to tell her, right?”
J.C. was torn. It was true that there’d been no medical issues discussed, but he wasn’t sure he should promise to keep silent when she was obviously in some kind of distress.
“How about we make a deal?” he said eventually.
Her gaze narrowed suspiciously. “What kind of deal?”
“You pick an adult—preferably your mom or dad, but any adult you trust will do—talk to them about what’s going on, and I won’t say anything about this visit.”
She immediately shook her head. “It’s not something I can talk about,” she insisted.
He shrugged off the excuse. “That’s the deal. Take it or leave it,” he replied, his gaze unrelenting. “And I want this person to let me know you’ve talked. I don’t need to know what you said. That can be totally confidential, but I want to know you’ve confided in someone who can help.”
To his surprise, the corners of her mouth lifted ever so slightly.
“What ever made me think you were going to be easy?” she asked ruefully.
“It’s all the lollipops and teddy bears around here,” he said. “A lot of people mistake me for a softie.”
“Boy, do you have them fooled,” she said, though there was a note of admiration in her tone. “How long do I have before you rat me out?”
He thought it over, weighing the risks of waiting against the value of allowing her to get the help she needed on her own. “Twenty-four hours seems reasonable to me. This time tomorrow.”
“And if you don’t hear from someone by then? What happens? Will alarms go off all over town? Is Chief Rollins going to hunt me down and drag me off to jail?”
He smiled at her. “Nothing that dramatic. Just expect me to drop by your house around dinnertime to have that talk with your folks.” He held her gaze. “So, do we have a deal?”
“I’d rather have that note for school,” she said regretfully, “but, yeah, I guess we have a deal.”
J.C. watched her leave his office and prayed he’d done the right thing. If she’d seemed even a tiny bit depressed, he wouldn’t have given her the leeway to work this out for herself. He’d have been all over it. Misty struck him as a kid who just needed a bit of a shove to solve this problem for herself. And, in his experience, the sense of empowerment that came from that could go a long way toward healing whatever issues a teen might be facing.
He’d just spend the next twenty-four hours praying his instincts in this instance had been right.
2
Since he’d sworn off dating, J.C. tended to spend a portion of most evenings at Fit for Anything, the new gym for men that had just opened in town. An hour-long workout before he headed home for dinner constituted what passed for his sorry social life most of the time.
It was a lot easier to pretend working out was a good substitute for dating in this environment than it had been at Dexter’s. Nobody had wanted to spend a minute longer than necessary in that dump. Here, he could even grab a bite to eat before heading home, and since the healthy food selections were supplied by Sullivan’s, one of the region’s best restaurants, they weren’t half bad.
Though it had taken a while because of his working partnership with Bill Townsend—a pariah with some people since his very messy divorce from Maddie a number of years ago—J.C. had eventually become friendly with Cal Maddox, Ronnie Sullivan and a few of the other men involved with the gym. As long as he left Bill out of the conversation, they seemed to get along just fine.
Tonight he found Cal here, just finishing up his own workout.
“You’re late,” Cal noted. “Don’t tell me you finally asked some woman out for coffee and broke the hearts of all the matchmakers in Serenity.”
J.C. chuckled. “Sadly, no. I had an unexpected after-hours visit from a patient.”
Cal immediately looked concerned. “An emergency? Was it a kid I might know?”
Though he wasn’t about to violate Misty’s confidence, he wondered if Cal would have any insights about what might be going on to make her dislike school so much she wanted to quit. “Do you know Misty Dawson?” he asked.
The look on Cal’s face was answer enough.
“You do,” J.C. concluded. “Any idea what’s going on with her?”
“No, but you’re the second person today who’s expressed real concern about her. What did she tell you?” Cal asked, then instantly waved off the question. “Sorry, I know you can’t say anything. I shouldn’t have asked.”
“It’s okay. Actually, knowing that I’m not the only one who’s worried is reassuring. If enough adults are paying attention, hopefully we’ll figure this out and get things back on track. From everything I know, she’s a bright girl with great potential.”
“Laura Reed, Misty’s English teacher, is all over it,” Cal assured him. “I’m looking into a couple of things myself.”
“Good to know,” J.C. said, relieved. “Has anyone spoken to her parents?”
Cal shook his