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But Graham—in more ways than one—was not like the rest of them. He wasn’t like Marquis, who dropped out of high school, who Cornell and Evan talked into taking his GED so he could enroll in Hopperville. Graham wasn’t like Dwayne Davis, who, even though was a decent student in high school, couldn’t handle the academic pressure of a four-year university.
Graham came to Hopperville because he had nowhere else to go when whispers of who he was didn’t match the persona of the All-American, wholesome quarterback he was made out to be.
But they were whispers, Ali reminded herself when Graham inched closer, looking at her computer.
Startled by his closeness, Ali peeked at Graham before returning her eyes to the screen. “Intro to Stat should transfer over for you.”
“So would European history.”
“Is that what you want to study? History?” Rarely did Ali have a student who wanted to take anything other than the easiest classes.
“The more you know about the past, the better prepared you are for the future,” Graham quoted, his green eyes rounding. “Teddy Roosevelt said that.”
“Are you interested in US history then?”
“Both. But the only quote from Napoleon I know is ‘A woman laughing is a woman conquered,’ and that didn’t seem appropriate.” He grinned.
It’s not.
But Ali smiled anyway.
She turned back to the monitor. “You know, I think we’ll have to leave you in European history because everything else that works with your schedule is full.”
Graham raised his eyebrows. “But my dad… ”
“I’ll let him know,” Ali said. “Introductory classes fill up quickly. But I’m sure you’ll do just fine in European history. And maybe you’ll learn about someone other than Napoleon. He was kind of a chauvinist pig.”
Laughing, Graham nodded. “Thanks. I… my dad is kind of a pain in the ass. I mean, he’s a good guy, I shouldn’t say… ”
“I don’t know if you noticed,” Ali motioned to the computer lab where Marquis was now singing while taking his quiz. “This place takes people from everywhere. No judgment.” Graham might have been different from other students, but a micromanaging, demanding father made him the norm and not the exception. “If it makes you feel better, I ignore half of my mom’s calls, and I’m in my thirties,” she offered as a joke.
Graham fiddled with his hat before bringing it down to cover his sand-colored hair. “He’s just… particular.”
“I know the type,” Ali said with an understanding smile. “I can try to run interference with class stuff. I don’t think you’ll give me any trouble with school work.”
“None whatsoever,” Graham assured her before pausing. “Are you guys married?”
“Sorry?”
Graham pointed to the frame on her desk holding a copy of the photo Cornell’s own demanding father had taken at lunch last fall, the same one she had gifted Cornell on his birthday—their proof of something, Cornell had called it. The truth was neither of them needed proof anymore. There was no more hiding, no more sneaking around, no more stolen moments.
“No,” Ali told Graham but before she could continue, she heard her something’s voice boom from the computer lab, talking to Marquis. “Leave him alone! He’s taking a quiz!”
There was more laughter before Cornell appeared at her doorway. He pressed one arm to the frame and eyed Graham, who immediately straightened in his seat. “Hey gorgeous,” Cornell greeted her with a smirk.
Mowgli weaseled his way past Cornell and around, nudging himself into the small space between Ali and Graham.
“What are you doing here, Graham? It’s Friday.” Cornell asked. There were no official team practices during the summer sessions. But there were conditioning and skill sessions, weights and training. Except on Friday afternoons.
Ali rubbed Mowgli’s floppy ears. “We needed to finalize a few things on his schedule.”
“You ready to bounce?” Cornell asked, ignoring her answer. “We have that thing tonight.”
“I was just leaving,” Graham announced, standing quickly and grabbing his bag off the couch. “Thanks, Alison. Later, Coach Crawford.”
Ali held Cornell’s gaze as Graham left her office. He locked his jaw and pressed his lips together. Don’t say it, don’t say it, don’t say it, Ali wished. I know you don’t like him. I know you don’t want him here. But I have a job to do, and so do you.
“I’ll meet you at the car,” Ali told Cornell. “I need to wait for your wide receiver to finish that quiz before I go.”
