“But I’ll never see you.”
“Not true at all. They can’t follow me to classes, to work. There will be lots of times we can see each other.”
Cadence cried all over again.
“I’ll be okay, Cadence. I swear,” Avery said. She reached in for another hug. This time Cadence squeezed hard until Avery’s bones popped.
“Did I really sin against you?” Cadence asked.
Avery pulled back. “Huh?”
“What you said to me in the hallway. All those weeks ago. Did I?”
Avery thought for a moment. “I was out of my mind.”
“No, you weren’t. And I thought a lot about what you said—the difference between a mistake and a sin. Not knowing versus knowing. And you’re right. What happened in the theatre wasn’t a mistake.”
Avery blinked.
“I don’t ever wanna treat you like that again. You trusted me, and I let you down. I was selfish, too, Avery. I knew better.”
Avery tried for something light. “Well, I think getting punched in the eye absolves you of any wrongdoing.”
Cadence giggled and shook her head. “My freaking dad punched me in the freaking eye!”
“I know, right? Did you press charges?”
Cadence shook her head. “We made a deal.”
“A what??”
“He wouldn’t go to the police about Mark if I didn’t go to the police about him.”
Avery whistled low. “Oh my God. Cadence, that’s, like, hardcore.”
“I know. And I’m the one who struck the deal. Not Mark.”
Avery nodded. “You’re wily. You’re smart. You’re clever. You should be very impressed with yourself.”
Cadence laughed. “Totally.”
They spent the afternoon discussing their class schedules and what days and times they could meet up on campus to hang out. They realized their work schedules would make a routine meet-up impossible. Avery said she’d add Cadence’s number in her cell phone under a different name.
“Wait. They gave you back your cell phone?” Cadence asked.
“No. I had to buy a new one.”
They joked about the fake contact and developed an entire life and backstory for her. She would be Avery’s new Christian friend on campus. Avery would attend Campus Crusade for Christ with her every Thursday night at 7 P.M. Translation: go to Cadence’s house for pizza.
Mark came home to girlish laughter. He planned to tell Cadence that he was offered the teaching position at Cobb Technical College, but it could wait, considering the events unfolding on their couch. An important friendship was being restored. Healing was taking place. Plans for the future were in progress. And he wasn’t a part of those things. They needed their time together, so he said a quick “hello,” then disappeared into the bedroom. He stayed there all night, lying in bed with a book, smiling occasionally at the shrieks of laughter, happy for their mending hearts.
His heart dropped when he watched her walk into the room. He ignored the snickers and whispers and followed her with his eyes as she walked to one of two remaining seats in his class. Both up front. She had no choice. She’d have to be close to him.
When realization dawned that he was the guy from Highway 28, the fear on her face was unmistakable. He felt no such fear. He felt extreme disappointment. And hopelessness.
And then, there was the matter of her orange jumpsuit. He didn’t know how to address it or if he even should address it. A large part of him said to leave it alone. She was clearly being bullied, and she thought she would try to turn the tables.
But she looked ridiculous. She had to know it. He wasn’t sure if she’d actually won or just thought she did. He tried for a gentle, non-confrontational approach.
“Cadence, you might wanna go change,” he said softly.
Her eyes went wide. He wasn’t sure why. And then it hit him. He said her name! Yes, he remembered her name. How could he ever forget that name? Cadence. Rhythmic. His song. His life. He decided that afternoon on the side of the road. She was his cadence. It was an alarming moment of clarity now muddled by the realization that she was his student. He thought God was playing another cruel joke on him.
“I’m okay, actually,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.
He wasn’t expecting that. He figured she’d obey. Wasn’t that what students were supposed to do? Obey?
He tried a different approach. “Okay. Not really a suggestion.” The words may have come out a little flatter than he’d intended. He wanted her to understand that he was in charge, but he didn’t want to embarrass her either.
She stared at him. No. That’s not right. She stared through him—right through his eyes and into his brain. Could she see what was going on? Could she feel his impossible attraction to her? He didn’t like the way she was looking at him. He leaned forward.
“Did you hear what I said?”