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Failed a pre-match test.
Maybe that’s why I feel seventeen all over again as I hold a sketch that Rae surely didn’t have time to waste by drawing the weekend he was here.
I want to live up to how he saw me.
So I do.
I retrace my steps to find Luke, who doesn’t make that easy. He isn’t in his study where I knock and wait like a shiny brass sign orders, and maybe him not telling me to enter should be a reprieve, only I can’t stop thinking of Rae telling me he was gonna ask for what he really wanted and that I should too.
That’s the spur in the side I need to go searching through classrooms. The smell of fresh paint travels with me down hallways lined with noticeboards. And that’s where I find Rae.
Not for real.
A photo of him is on a noticeboard just inside the library. He’s surrounded by kids. By sand. By shared art projects, none of which hold my attention. I’m drawn to eyes that smile even in a photo, and to his brand of busy interest. I’m so engrossed that I don’t hear Luke until he stands beside me.
“Was he ready in time for his meeting?”
I jump. Not due to surprise. Leaping is any goalie’s first reaction, and that’s what I do now by coming to Rae’s defence. “He won’t let those kids down.”
Luke repeats what I last saw on a dance floor when a soldier held up both hands to saydon’t shoot. Luke’s upraised handsask me to hold fire the same way, only he doesn’t back off. If anything, he draws closer to me and rephrases while speaking quietly. “Of course he won’t let them down.” All of his frown lines deepen as he makes a quiet confession. “I only wondered about how his meeting might have gone for selfish reasons.”
“Selfish?” That isn’t a word I’d associate with this headmaster. I’ve watched him work hard all summer. When he hasn’t been walking and talking with his trainee teachers, he’s wielded tools or paint rollers. Even now, he’s dotted with white spatters. He’s also midway through another chore for the kids who learn here.
Luke gestures at a box of books I assume are meant to fill the shelves of this new library. “I was hoping Rae would help me add to our collection of stories about journeys, like in these books, especially if those stories involve failure.”
“Failure?”
I guess we aren’t talking about fiction anymore.
This is about me.
I brace myself, but Luke picks up a picture book for little children. “Rae recommended this one to me. Said it was a particularly difficult story that spoke to him, got to him right here.”
He touches his chest while something deep inside mine twinges at the thought of Rae hurting. What Luke adds next soothes it.
“He said that story healed him. Not sure if that’s because he saw himself in it or because it was illustrated by someone who went on to become his mentor.” He taps a book cover showing a boy staring up at a sky full of stars, his gaze fixed on the brightest one sparkling high above him. And isn’t that another reminder of Rae right there, only under a canopy of Cornish stars with me.
Luke touches that bright star on the cover of the book. “I ordered several by the same illustrator based on Rae’srecommendation. This is the one that held special meaning for him, but do you know what almost happened to it this afternoon?”
I shake my head and Luke tells me.
“I haven’t been able to find a perfect librarian for Glynn Harber. I settled for someone who fit the bill on paper, and that’s who I found packing these books away to return, because”—he makes air quotes—“they aren’t suitable for children. None of them. Not even the book Rae personally recommended. The one story he said made him feel less alone.”
“Alone?” There goes my chest again, twinging.
Luke points back to that noticeboard full of photos.
“Perhaps Rae meant he wasn’t alone in wanting to help children through art. Regardless, the librarian decided none of these books were suitable. Said they had too many scary low points.”
He smiles tightly while proving to me that he isn’t afraid to end contracts early like I’ve come here more than half expecting.
“We’ve agreed to differ. Parted ways before he could return them.” Now Luke is rueful. “And unfortunately before he could finish shelving any of the books he did approve of, hence…” He gestures again at the mostly empty shelves in this library. “It looks as if I’ll be on duty—which isn’t the most optimal timing—until I can trial another addition to my team. Someone with a more open mindset.” He admits to making a mistake without any excuses. “I selected the wrong person. Me. No one else. I made an error of judgement. Perhaps I hoped too hard that I’d found someone with a storyteller’s soul for our students. Someone who knows the value of seeing yourself in fiction, in getting to be a hero instead of a victim.”
Like Rae does with all those kids.
I glance again at the photos on the noticeboard. Rae is almost clean-shaven in the first. He’s increasingly bearded andprogressively more harrowed as I walk along this record of what Luke tells me is a collaboration between several projects. “Our counsellor Reece helps to run the Safe Harbour project. He’s always gathering up like-minded people.”
He has also gathered kids. Each photo features different children. A tide of statistics, Rae had called them.
