She laughed softly. “Everyone wants to train with you. You’re the best wrestler on the team.”
“No, you are. And what about jiu-jitsu?”
His words were like a knife twisting inside her. She knew he didn’t know it, that he couldn’t understand, but still it hurt so much. “Sean, please . . . I’m sorry.”
“I just don’t understand,” he said, and the sadness and helplessness in his voice had her on the verge of crying. She had to get away. Had to hide.
“At least meet me tonight,” he said. “At the playground.”
She couldn’t speak. But she nodded.
“Ten o’clock?” he said. “Can you sneak out?”
She nodded again. With all the people in the Lone house, it wasn’t as though anyone would notice. Or care, even if they did.
39—THEN
It was still snowing when Livia slipped out of the house and walked to the playground. She liked the snow. It was still so strange to her, and she hoped she would never get used to it or take it for granted. It was lovely, the way it covered everything and made the world look so fresh and clean.
Sean was waiting for her, wearing a wool hat and a down jacket like she was. He smiled as she walked over. “You want to sit on the swings?”
She didn’t, actually. Tonight she wanted to be able to see him, not sit side by side. She smiled back and said, “Let’s just stand for a while.”
He nodded. “Okay.”
She looked around, realizing this might be the last time she saw the playground. She would never miss the rest of Llewellyn. But the playground was special. A place she associated with Sean. With that night, a year earlier. There was even a moon again, like the year before, though this one was behind clouds that suffused everything in a soft glow. This would be a nice way to remember it, she thought. Blanketed in white, with the whole world hushed by the gentle, falling snow.
“Is everything okay at the house?” Sean asked.
“It’s okay. There are a lot of people.”
“My dad wrote you a letter,” he said, reaching into his jacket and pulling out an envelope. “I don’t know what it says. He said you could open it now, if you want. Or wait until later. It’s up to you.” He handed it to her.
She hesitated for a moment, then pulled off her gloves and opened the letter.
My dearest Livia, This is just a short note from a man who’s never been prouder of anything than to be Sean’s father and his and your teacher.
I know Sean told you that you could stay with us if you need to, for as long as you like. That invitation is from both of us. It will always be there. It’s never going away, not for anything. I told you, girl, you have people who care about you. So if there’s anything you ever need—anything, ever—you call on us, and we’ll be there.
All that said, we understand you have your reasons, and we respect them whatever they are.
Remember that your talent is your ticket. And never stop believing in yourself. Those two things, and nothing’s ever going to stop you.
I’m not going to say goodbye, because I feel certain our paths will cross again. Until then, thank you for the privilege of being your teacher, and I’m looking forward to seeing whatever you decide to make of yourself. I have a feeling you’re just warming up now, and the best parts are all yet to come. I love you, girl.
Malcolm
By the time she was done reading, her tears were all over the paper. She handed it wordlessly to Sean. While he read it, she wiped away her tears and managed to stop crying.
“Wow,” Sean said.
She sniffled, then laughed. “He always makes me cry.”
He handed the note back to her. She blew the snow off, folded it, and put it back in the envelope, then put the envelope in her coat pocket. She’d known even before she finished reading that she would keep it with the photograph of her and Nason.
“Everything he said . . . you know I feel the same.”
She nodded. “Thanks.”
“I mean it.”
“I know.”
“Even if you did abandon me to Eric and his friends my first day of school.”
She looked at him in shock, and he started laughing. “I’m kidding!” he said. “I’m just teasing.”
She made a mock angry face. “You better watch it.”
He smiled. “I know.”
She really liked his smile. And his face, which had little flakes of snow melting on it. She was so used to seeing that face—his eyes, his smile—and now she wouldn’t.