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  He smiled. “I’m glad you said that, because—if you’re comfortable—I’d like to adjust you today. But only if you’re comfortable.”

  Lauren inhaled a slow, deep breath before she blew it out in a rush. “Okay, let’s do it.”

  “You sure?”

  She nodded. “I think I trust you.”

  “Well then, I think I’m honored,” he said with a laugh, motioning for her to lie back down on the table. He positioned her on her side and placed one hand on her shoulder and the other on her hip. “Deep breath in for me, okay?” Lauren inhaled. “And blow it out.” As soon as she started to exhale, he applied quick pressure with his hands, and it sounded like someone had just stepped on bubble wrap.

  She froze and he smiled down at her. “How was that?”

  “Not bad.” She wiggled a little bit. “Wow, that does feel different.”

  “Like magic, right? Shift onto your back, please.”

  She did as he asked, and he came to the head of the table, standing behind her. He slid his hands behind her ears, placing them on the sides of her neck.

  She tensedriple chocolate cake instantly.

  “Were you freaked out the first time you did this to someone?” she asked, just to be filling the silence so she didn’t jump off the table.

  “Um, yeah, I was. But that was only because I ended up killing the guy.”

  Lauren blinked up at him, and that roguish grin appeared. “Very funny,” she deadpanned.

  “Ready?”

  Lauren closed her eyes and nodded, and just like the first time, with a quick flick of his wrists, it was over. She sat up slowly, rolling her neck.

  “Feel good?”

  She looked over at him. “You’re so smug.”

  He tossed his head back and laughed, and Lauren smiled. “Thank you, Dr. Wells,” she said.

  “That’s what I’m here for. And please, call me Adam.” He helped her off the table and then opened the door. “Schedule your next few appointments with my receptionist and we’ll get you started on your rehabilitation. I’d like to see you at least two times a week, if your schedule allows it.”

  And as Lauren shook his hand, she thought, I’d like to see you at least two times a week too.

  The next morning, Lauren arrived at work an hour before her shift started so she could get herself acclimated to the new structure of Learn and Grow’s program.

  Deb walked her through the paperwork she’d be exposed to: registration forms, incident reports, and memos, before she introduced Lauren to Delia and Janet, the two women she’d be working with in the pre-K room. Delia was a Hispanic girl a few years older than Lauren with a head full of long dark curls and beautiful caramel-colored eyes. Janet was a special educator, slightly overweight with graying hair and the most inviting demeanor Lauren had ever encountered. She warmed to both of them instantly.

  Delia showed Lauren the three different rooms—the infant room for children under the age of one, the tot room for the one and two-year-olds, and then Lauren’s room, the pre-K room, for the three and four-year-olds.

  Then both Delia and Janet sat with her, and they explained what a typical day in the pre-K room looked like.

  “Do you have any questions?” Janet asked when they were done.

  “No, not right now,” Lauren said, “but I’m sure I will as the day progresses.”

  “That’s what we’re here for,” said Delia as she patted her on the back. “You’ll be great.”

  “Are you done hazing her yet?” Deb said from the doorway.

  “We decided not to haze her, although the kids might not be as kind,” Janet said with a wink in Lauren’s direction.

  Deb laughed. “I just need to borrow Lauren for a minute before the kids get here.”

  “We’re all set,” Delia said, walking over to the wall of books to choose a story for the morning reading circle.

  “Great. Come with me,” Deb said to Lauren. “I’m gonna walk you through the registration process. You picked a great day to start; we’re registering three new kids today.”

  Lauren followed Deb behind the front desk and watched as she opened a file drawer. “These are all our registration forms, divided alphabetically by room. These forms are filled out and mailed in with tuition prior to the students coming here, but on their first day, what we do is take out the forms and go over them with the parents to ensure that none of the information has changed. And then, you have a brief sit-down with them to answer any last-minute questions. Parents of first-timers can be a little nervous.” Deb made a face and Lauren laughed, remembering how anxious some of her kindergarten parents used to be.

  “The most important thing is to make the child feel comfortable, because then the parent will feel comfortable.”

  “Right,” Lauren said with a nod.

  “In fact,” Deb said, glancing up with a smile as the front door opened. “Here’s our first one. Why don’t you stay here and watch me do the first one, and then if you’re comfortable, you can try the second?”

  “Sounds good,” Lauren said, smiling over at the young mother who was walking in with the most adorable little boy.

  The first half hour was organized chaos, but it couldn’t have run more smoothly. Lauren watched Deb go through the registration process with Micah, the two-year-old boy who looked like he walked straight out of a commercial, and then hurried back to the pre-K room as the other students began arriving. They were fascinated with her, as children usually are with new people, and spent the first part of the morning asking her questions and fighting over sitting next to her.

  Lauren took to them with ease, and by the end of that first hour, she, Delia, and Janet had fallen into a routine that made it look as if they’d been working together for years.

  “Hey, Lauren?”

  She looked up to see Deb popping her head in the door of their classroom. “Our second registration is here. You want to give it a shot?”

  “Sure,” she said, looking over at Delia, who nodded and absorbed the two kids Lauren was working with.

  “This one’s coming to your room. Call me over if you need anything,” Deb said before walking back into her office.

  Lauren walked behind the desk to see a man with his back to her, holding a little girl and pointing to some of the drawings on the bulletin board.

  “Hi,” Lauren said sweetly. “Welcome to Learn and Grow.”

  He turned then, and Lauren felt her smile drop. For a second, her vision got sort of fuzzy, and she reached down and placed her hands on the desk to steady herself.

  There was no way it could be him.

  But even as her mind chanted that mantra, she knew that it was. She hadn’t seen him in eight years, but his face was still the same.

  In that instant, something in his eyes changed, and she realized he recognized her too.

  She was too stunned to say the things she knew she was supposed to be saying, the things Deb had taught her that morning.

  She was too stunned to even breathe.

  And so she stood there, completely frozen and numb with shock, unable to feel what she expected herself to feel if she ever saw him again: confusion, disbelief, longing.

  But most of all, anger.

  November 2000

  Lauren held her notebook tightly to her chest as she darted through the hallway, weaving in and out of the bodies that still lingered there, seemingly unfazed by the bell that had just signaled the one-minute warning.

  “Why the hell are you walking so fast?” Jenn asked, slightly winded as she scurried to keep up with her friend. “That was just the warning bell.”

  Lauren ignored her, glancing at the doors of the classrooms they were passing. It was the first day of the second quarter, which also meant the first day of new specialty classes. Basic Health was in room 228, and they had only just passed room 210; they were never going to make it in under a minute.

  With that realization she broke into a jog, muttering her apologies as she squeezed in be
tween and around other students.

  “Lauren!” Jenn whined. “Slow down!” She caught up with her friend and grabbed the back of her shirt, but her pace was unbreakable, and Jenn ended up being towed behind her. “Everyone knows that teachers give freshmen a break for being late,” she said, her voice choppy as she struggled to keep up. “Especially on the first day of new classes.”

  As they circumvented a group of students and came up on room 228, Lauren stopped abruptly, causing an oblivious Jenn to collide into her from behind. She flew forward, catapulted by the force, and crashed directly into the teacher who stood waiting outside the door.

  “Oh God, sorry. I’m so sorry,” Lauren said, taking a step backward and discreetly elbowing Jenn.

  The man regained his balance just as the bell sounded overhead, and he smiled. “Your timing is impeccable. Your method of arrival, however, could use a little work. Go on in and have a seat, ladies.”

  “See,” Lauren said over her shoulder as they walked into the room, “we wouldn’t have made it if we didn’t run.”

  Jenn rolled her eyes as she gestured toward the four students seated there. “And thank God! It would have been so humiliating if we walked in after the bell with the rest of the entire class.”

  Lauren smirked as she put her notebook down on a desk. “Well look on the bright side; now we get first choice in seating.”

  “Wonderful,” Jenn deadpanned, placing her books down on the desk next to Lauren’s. “So, will you come with me later?”

  “Where?”

  “To the drugstore.”

  “I guess,” Lauren said. “Why do you need me to come?”

  “I want to hold boxes of hair dye up to your head.”

  Lauren turned, looking blankly at her friend. “Are you serious?”

  “That’s the only way to guarantee it comes out just like yours,” Jenn said, going through her purse and pulling out ChapStick.

  “Nothing ever comes out looking like the box. You’re better off just picking a color you like.”

  “But I like your color,” she said as she applied the ChapStick. “So pretty but like, sexy at the same time, you know? It’s like…deep auburn. Rich mahogany. Or…mmm, dark chocolate cherry.”

  Lauren shook her head as she looked through her bag for a pen. “You sound like you’re auditioning for a commercial.”

  Jenn laughed as she capped her ChapStick and tossed it back into her purse. “Just come with me. It will take ten minutes, tops.”

  “Fine,” Lauren sighed as she opened her notebook to the first clean page and wrote the date. “You’re a total weirdo, you know that, right?”

  “And you’re my best friend, so what does that say about you?”

  Lauren smiled. “Good point.”

  “I can’t wait,” Jenn squealed, clapping her hands quickly in front of her. “I am so ready to get rid of this mousy brown mop. You’re so lucky it grows out of your head that way…”

  As Jenn expounded on the wonders of changing her hair color, Lauren watched as the rest of the class filed into the room. The seating arrangement was set up in a large U, with the teacher’s desk and the blackboard set in the opening at the top. She had heard through the grapevine that Mr. Mavis was notorious for making his students debate controversial issues, which she could only assume was the reason behind a seating plan that allowed chatty high school students to face one another during class.

  As her eyes scanned the students seating themselves on the other side of the room, Lauren immediately recognized Keith Wagner in the back corner and sighed. She’d had a few classes with him in middle school, and every one was torture; he would spend the entire class period obnoxiously trying to outsmart the teacher, arguing every point, questioning every statement.

  He was going to make this class unbearable.

  The sound of a chair scraping the floor caught her attention, and she turned her eyes to the boy taking a seat at the desk directly across the room from hers. She didn’t recognize him, but there were a lot of students she didn’t recognize in this class. It wasn’t uncommon for specialty classes to integrate different grade levels. In fact, as she took stock of the room once more, it seemed she, Jenn, Keith, and two others were the only freshmen in the class.

  “Ladies and gentleman, your attention, please,” Mr. Mavis said as he sat on top of his desk facing the room. “This is Basic Health, room 228, and I am Mr. Mavis. Please make sure you are in the right place before I pass around the sign-in sheet.”

  As the room rumbled with the slight murmur of students checking their schedules, Lauren’s attention went back to the boy sitting across from her; his eyes were downcast, watching his fingers twirl a pen in dexterous, complicated patterns.

  Mr. Mavis put the sign-in sheet down on Lauren’s desk, and she wrote her name neatly on the top before passing it to Jenn, who nudged her and then gestured with her head in Keith Wagner’s direction before rolling her eyes. Lauren nodded and rolled her eyes in agreement, and as Jenn looked down at the sign-in sheet, Lauren looked back to the boy across the room. She had no idea what it was about him that kept grabbing her attention; nothing in particular made him stand out. Broad-shouldered, dark-haired, and wearing some sort of nondescript gray T-shirt and a baseball hat turned backward, he looked just like any other boy.

  He stared at the pen weaving in and out of his fingers, completely expressionless, and Lauren watched the movement of his hand for a moment before she raised her eyes back to his face. And in that instant, she suddenly realized what was so intriguing about him.

  He wasn’t expressionless at all.

  His face was placid, almost indifferent, but there was something just behind his eyes that betrayed that cool composure. She was suddenly reminded of a class trip she’d taken in fifth grade; her teacher had brought them to a pond that was completely serene, as smooth and still as a sheet of glass, but when they inserted a tiny camera just beneath the surface, it revealed this unrestrained world of fish and plants and organisms whirling and crashing and spinning out of control, totally hidden beneath the deceptively unruffled exterior.

  It was fascinating.

  And there he sat, looking outwardly composed, and all she could think of was that pond. Because something about him, something in his eyes, divulged the secret; there was a whole world in there somewhere, thriving just below the surface where no one could see it.

  “Alright everyone, good afternoon,” Mr. Mavis finally said once the sign-in sheet was circulating. “As I said before, this is Basic Health, and in the next ten weeks we will be discussing both the positive and negative external influences that can affect the human body, from exercise to nutrition, from diseases to drugs and alcohol, to sexual intercourse and everything in between. This class is heavily rooted in discussion, but you will also be asked to take notes, so if you do not already have a notebook designated for this class, please get one by the end of the week.”

  At that moment, the boy with the backward hat lifted his gaze, making eye contact with Lauren, and her stomach lurched as she ripped her eyes from his. She could feel the heat blooming on her cheeks, and she hoped he wasn’t still looking at her; getting caught staring was bad enough without her blush giving a voice to her humiliation.

  As Mr. Mavis continued with his class overview, Lauren picked up her pen and began doodling on the page in front of her, determined not to look up at him again. She chewed on her lower lip, slowly etching the outline of a flower in the upper right-hand corner of the page, and after a minute she finally felt the warmth begin to leave her cheeks.

  “Our first unit will be the alcohol unit, and later this week a few representatives from the SADD organization will be coming to give us a presentation on the dangers of driving while intoxicated.”

  “Mr. Mavis?”

  Lauren closed her eyes and exhaled a breathy laugh. Keith Wagner. That didn’t take long at all.

  “Yes?”

  “Do we have to do this every year? I mean, we’ve been
getting drilled on the dangers of alcohol since middle school.”

  “While I appreciate the fact that your past educational experiences have resonated with you, I assure you that the information and stories you’ll hear in this class are not only new, but relevant,” Mr. Mavis responded. “Especially considering the fact that many of you are now of the age to be driving.”

  “Yes, but still,” Keith went on, and Lauren occupied herself by imagining what Keith’s face would look like if a teacher finally told him to shut the hell up for once. “We get it. We all know a person would have to be a complete idiot to get behind the wheel of a car while drunk. I don’t think any of us are that stupid.”

  The sudden sound of a chair screeching against the floor followed by a deafening bang caused Lauren to jump nearly out of her seat, and she lifted her eyes quickly, immediately freezing as she took in the scene.

  The boy with the backward hat was standing, and the desk in front of Keith was gone, overturned somewhere on the other side of the room.

  Keith sat completely immobilized, gripping the sides of his chair as he stared up at the boy, looking terrified and utterly exposed. The boy with the hat loomed above him, his jaw clenched and his eyes murderous.

  What had she missed?

  She was vaguely aware that Mr. Mavis was saying something to the boy with the hat, but she couldn’t make it out. Everything outside of the scene she was witnessing became fuzzy background noise; she was completely frozen, her eyes pinned on the boy, watching the way he trembled with his fists clenched at his sides. She couldn’t be sure if it was a sign of restraint or impending explosion.

  Mr. Mavis flew to the phone mounted on the wall by the door, and Lauren thought she heard him asking for Mr. Banks, although she knew that couldn’t be right. Mr. Banks was the guidance counselor; it was Mr. DeCarlo, the assistant principal, who handled discipline. She remembered that from orientation.

  Before she could even make sense of what was happening, the boy with the hat whirled around suddenly, and Lauren flinched as he stormed past her toward the door. In one fell swoop, he yanked it open and charged out, slamming it closed behind him so forcefully that she thought the glass would rattle out of its pane and crash to the floor.