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“How bad?”
“Who said there’s anything bad about it? Other kid has a nasty concussion, and the police want nothing to do with it. Graham is expelled. Effective immediately. We should be celebrating with a drink.” Cornell sat beside her, instead shoveling a spoonful of ice cream into his mouth.
Ali rubbed his back.
“Actually, it’s bad. You know why? Because he should be in jail. That should be the biggest consequence he faces right now. Not worrying about classes and playing football.” Cornell angrily spooned more ice cream into his mouth. He turned toward her. “You’re not going to fight me on this one, yeah?”
Shrugging, Ali leaned her head into her hand. “I couldn’t even if I wanted to.”
It was flat out assault. And this was nothing like what happened in Graham’s past, where there were no witnesses, no one to attest that he committed a disgusting and serious crime. This time, there were hundreds of witnesses, and Graham still got off with nothing more than a slap on the wrist considering the circumstances.
He nodded, relieved. “I feel bad your family came to such a shit show. Your mom must really think I’m nuts for coaching kids like that.” Cornell sulked.
Ali slid off the stool and climbed into Cornell’s lap, sandwiching herself between the island countertop and him. She wiped her thumb along his lip and then licked the smudge of melted ice cream from her finger. “Don’t be silly. She thinks we’re both nuts.”
Cornell forced a laugh and leaned his head against hers, sighing. “I told you, you can’t save them all.”
A pang of guilt struck Ali because she knew she had been trying to get Cornell to believe otherwise. And the letdown was intensely disappointing.
The look on Cornell’s face told Ali he needed to be reminded of the same thing.
“No,” Ali said sadly, shaking her head before wrapping her arms around him. “You can’t.”
* * *
“When you visit, we’ll pull up all his recent grades to see where things stand,” Ali said to the recruiter over the phone. “If you let me—”
“I need to talk to you.”
Ali’s eyes flew to the doorway where Graham stood—red-faced and splotchy, out of breath.
She cleared her throat. “I’m so sorry. Can I give you a call back?” Quickly Ali hung up the phone. “Graham, you aren’t supposed to—”
“To be here? At my school? At the school my dad paid money to send me to?” Graham interrupted. “They kicked me out.”
Ali swallowed, noticing the red rings around his eyes. Has he been crying? Drinking? Smoking? She cautiously stood. “I know.”
Graham’s jaw tightened. “I know you know. I wouldn’t be here if you didn’t. I need your help. You’ve got to talk to them.”
“Who?”
“The dean!” Graham shouted. “Your boyfriend. Anybody. Everyone here listens to you.” With a heaving chest, he stepped into her office.
Her colleague Beth appeared behind Graham, concerned eyes behind glasses. “Ali? Everything okay?”
“Yeah, thanks, Beth.” Ali nodded a bit too enthusiastically. Please go and let me deal with this. This kid is spiraling, and I need to get him out of here. There was just the smallest softening of Beth’s mouth that let Ali know she understood.
“Graham, close the door and have a seat.” She motioned to the couch, and it wasn’t lost on Ali that he nearly stumbled the two and a half feet to the corner of her office to the couch, leaving a heavy whiff of what smelled like rubbing alcohol behind him. “You’re going to get yourself in serious trouble if you don’t keep your voice down,” she hissed. “You aren’t supposed to be on campus.”
“I’m sorry,” Graham panted, pulling off his baseball hat. “You don’t get it. I have nowhere to go now. There was never any place else but here. This shit show was my last shot.”
Ali stood and sat on the corner of her desk across from him. “Look, Graham, I understand you have a lot going on, but I—”
“You are my last shot, Ali,” Graham pleaded. “You’ve got to help me. You said you would help me.” His voice cracked, but Ali didn’t soften her stance. Graham’s tone or use of her nickname didn’t make her feel sorry for him as he begged—it made her feel unsure of him.
Ali swallowed heavily, wanting to be firm, wishing there was something she could do. Because what she saw in front of her was nothing more than a broken, shell of a young man, no different than any other student who came into her office. But beneath the surface, Ali knew Graham was angry, resentful. Broken people did broken things.
“Graham.” Ali cleared her throat. “I did say I would help you. But I can’t help you the way you want. I’m sorry.”
