Page 28 of Head Under Water

When the kids come back inside from recess, they swarm around my desk.

“We made you something, Ms. Sullivan,” Kennedy informs me.

There are a couple of nervous giggles as she moves her hands from behind her back and reveals a paper crown. On the front, in ever-improving handwriting, someone has written:

Happy Birthday

It’s decorated with crayons—rainbows and butterflies everywhere I look. “Oh, you guys.” Tears sting my eyes, and it’s the most ridiculous thing to cause me to cry in a while, but I take the crown and plop it on my head. “It’s beautiful. Thank you.”

“Do you like it?”

“I love it.”

“We all drew something,” Daniel says proudly. “I picked the colors.”

“You all did a wonderful job.”

As they take their seats, there’s a knock on the door. I’m still drying my eyes as I cross the classroom.

Banks.

There’s a small part of me that expected him to come find me after the morning announcements. An even smaller, embarrassing part of me that wonders if that’s why he’s here.

I twist the handle and beam at him. “Mr. Thompson.”

His eyes briefly scan the crown. “Am I interrupting story time? I just need to borrow your keys, if I can. I locked mine in the teachers’ lounge.”

“Oh.” I step back. “Yep, of course.” I cross the room and grab the set of keys from my desk. “Only if you promise to return the favor when it happens to me.”

He smiles and the wrinkles of worry wash from his expression. “It’s a deal.” He lingers, and for a second, I think…maybe…but no. He’s only studying the keys, flipping through the ring, trying to determine which of the many is the key to the teachers’ lounge.

“Sorry. There’s a lot. It’s…this one, I think.” I tap my finger against the key with two small bumps on its teeth.

He waves the keys. “I’ll figure it out. Thanks. I’ll bring ’em back after class.”

I don’t allow myself to feel the sinking feeling in my chest as I shut the door. It’s silly, isn’t it?

Just a birthday.

Still, the reality stings. He didn’t notice.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

PRESENT DAY

When I get back to Will’s apartment, I dial Mom’s number in the stairwell.

I’m almost positive I’m going to miss her before she picks up. “Hey, honey. Happy birthday.”

Warmth blooms in my chest. “Thanks, Mom. I was just calling to let you know I’m dropping my things off here and changing clothes, and then I’ll head your way. Are you in the mood for Italian?”

She draws in a breath and…it’s rattly. She sounds terrible. Before I can ask, she coughs, and it’s deep. Settled in her chest.

I rest my hand on the wall, pausing. “Are you sick?”

She clears her throat, but she can’t hide the fact that her voice is softer now, hoarse. “I think it’s just a little cold,” she says, then coughs again.

“You should’ve told me. Do you need anything? I can pick up medicine on my way.”