Home To Family. Ann Evans
fished the jar she’d brought out of her backpack, unscrewed the lid, and dumped a quart of raw honey into the drawer.
She didn’t expect to get away with it. She didn’t really care. She was almost in a stupor, watching the honey spread in a slow, golden river over everything in its path.
When the classroom door opened and closed, she knew it would be Bickley. Drawing a deep breath, she straightened, fully prepared for a shriek of horror and a swift march down to the principal’s office. The wrath of God was about to descend on her pretty quick.
But when she lifted her eyes, it wasn’t Mrs. Bickley she saw coming toward her. It was Matt D’Angelo.
He didn’t say a word, and neither did she. She watched him inspect the damage. His features didn’t give much away. Maybe his mouth tightened a little.
Finally, he looked back at her. “I thought you were just fooling everyone with your grades, that you were really pretty smart. But you’re actually dumber than a box of bent nails.”
Those were practically the first words he’d said to her since February. She crossed her arms and gave him a sullen look. “I wasn’t expecting an audience.”
“Doesn’t matter if anyone sees you or not. Bickley’s gonna know you did this. Everybody will.”
Leslie shrugged. “I don’t care.”
“No reason why you should, I guess. Not after what that bitch said in front of everyone yesterday.”
She blinked. She’d never heard Matt say anything remotely nasty before. Maybe she wasn’t the only one who would end up in hell someday.
He went quiet again, staring down at the mess in the drawer. He shook his head as though he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.
“How did you know I was in here?” she asked.
“I watched you from Coach Mitterman’s office. I’m his gopher this semester. I figured you weren’t coming in early just to make points with Bickley, so I thought I’d check it out.”
“I’m glad you didn’t get here in time to stop me,” she said in a determined voice. “You couldn’t. And I’m not going to run away and pretend I don’t know anything.”
He snorted. “No. You wouldn’t want someone to keep you from getting a three-day suspension. If not more.”
“I don’t care if they expel me from school for good. It will just be what everyone thinks I deserve anyway. No one expects anyone in the Meadows family ever to amount to anything. Including you.”
He frowned, looking annoyed. “I’ve never said that.”
“You don’t have to.”
He stared at her, hard, while she continued to throw him mutinous looks.
“You know what your problem is, Leslie?” he said at last. “You’re so busy trying to make sure no one thinks you care about anything that you don’t know how to act normal. You have a chip on your shoulder as big as Mount Rushmore. You never say please or thank you or…” He gave a rough laugh, as though disgusted with himself. “Oh, forget it. Bickley’s gonna come in here any minute and have a cow. You’ll probably make matters worse by spitting in her eye, and then she’ll flatten you but good. That’s probably what you need anyway.”
Surprisingly, his apparent dislike for her hurt more than anything Danny LeBrock had ever said. Tears stung the back of her eyes, but she refused to let them come. “Then you’d better get out of here. I wouldn’t want you to see what happens if she tries to lay a finger on me.”
He sighed heavily and shook his head. “There’s no saving you. Danny was wrong. You’re not Hope-Les. You’re Clue-Les.”
She bristled. “At least I’m not so full of myself that I have to duck my big head to get it through the doorway.”
He gave her that smile that made the girls giggle nervously. “Smart aleck.”
“Over-achiever.”
“Idiot.”
They subsided into a strange silence then, and in that moment the classroom door opened again. This time it was Mrs. Bickley. She approached them both with a frown between her overly plucked eyebrows.
It didn’t take her long to see the damage. The honey sent up a sickening sweet odor that began to turn Leslie’s stomach a little. When it came right down to it, she wasn’t sure just how she’d handle the woman’s reaction.
Mrs. Bickley, as pale as her crisp, white blouse, ignored Matt completely and snapped her gaze over to Leslie. She knew perfectly well who the guilty party was. “How could you do such a hateful thing?” she asked through the middle of her teeth.
“Actually, she didn’t,” Matt spoke up from behind her. “I did.”
Even after all these years it was still so clear to Leslie—the shock on Mrs. Bickley’s face, her refusal to believe Matt capable of such a trick. He stuck to his story, that he had done it because she had given him a B on the last test when he’d been sure his essay had deserved an A. Leslie had come into the classroom after he’d poured the honey, he told the astonished teacher. When Leslie opened her mouth to protest, he gave her such a threatening look that she clammed up again, so shocked she couldn’t have spoken anyway.
What could Principal Smith do in the face of such a calm, unshakable confession? Matt was suspended for three days.
No one had ever gone out on a limb like that for Leslie. All her fights had been fought alone, and she was shaken by Matt’s gesture, then suspicious. Why had he done it?
Finally, she recognized it for what it was.
On the third day of his suspension, Leslie hitched a ride up to Lightning River Lodge. Mr. D’Angelo was in the lobby, stoking the huge fireplace with pieces of wood as big as the television set at home. She asked to see Matt, and when he scowled and told her Matt wasn’t allowed to see anyone, she begged. He told her she could have five minutes.
She found him around the back of the lodge, chopping wood. There was so much of it piled around him that he looked like he’d been doing that chore for a week. When he saw her, he stopped and waited for her to reach him, wiping sweat from his brow with the sleeve of his shirt.
He didn’t look mad, though she wouldn’t have blamed him if he had. All the words she’d rehearsed up the mountain road deserted her. Panic began a slow crawl up her spine because she knew she wasn’t going to get this right.
He frowned. “Now what have you done?”
She shook her head, unable to speak.
He pointed to her face. “Then what’s with the plumbing problem?”
She realized that her cheeks were wet with tears. Humiliating. Such a stupid reaction. She wished she could turn around and run down the mountain, because she realized that Matt D’Angelo had offered her something she didn’t think existed. With his gesture of friendship, he had changed her whole life.
She remembered the short lecture he’d given her in Mrs. Bickley’s classroom. Plunging in before she lost her courage, she said, “You were right. I do have a chip on my shoulder. But you’re wrong about one thing. I do know how to say thank you, because I’m saying it now. Thank you.”
He stared at her for a long moment, while her heart missed beats. Then his deep, generous smile was all the reward she could have asked for.
From that moment on, they were friends.
CHAPTER FOUR
THE REALIZATION that her feet were freezing brought Leslie back to the present. She checked her watch. She’d been standing—lost in those early memories—on the snowy trail that led down to Lightning Lake for twenty minutes. She turned and trekked back up the path, recognizing this small side trip to the lake