weeks. How would she explain it to her parents, the school? Who should she tell first? Mrs. Sosa? Nurse Reilly? Was there a Keaton hierarchy of whom to tell first? Would Maya be kicked out? Devon realized she was as clueless as Maya was. Once again, there wasn’t a clear guideline on how to handle secret pregnancies. Maybe once this was all done Devon would submit a new chapter for the Keaton Companion. Beyond Rules Anyone Could Imagine: A Guide for the Unexpected.
The Keaton display case kept drawing Devon’s eyes. Tres abbitas. Three trees, according to the old Latin dictionary she’d consulted. Why had the logo for Keaton changed from three trees to one? Sighing, Devon stood up and approached the case.
1946: Francis Keaton broke ground on what was to become The Keaton School. A framed picture from the Santa Cruz Sentinel showed a smiling Francis, thick dark hair slicked back to a pointed widow’s peak, with his foot on the edge of the shovel. Devon had never really looked at any of this Keaton history before. A portrait of him, much later in life, hung in the admissions office. But that gray hair was slicked back the same way.
She looked more closely at the picture. Nothing but lush mountains and open sky behind him. No vineyards on the hillsides just yet. Behind him, three people smiled and watched as he posed. The caption read, Mr. and Mrs. Reed Hutchins, Edward Dover. Edward Dover? As in Maya’s father, Eddie Dover? No, this guy would be too old, wouldn’t he? But, if he had a son, Edward Junior … yes, that could be Maya’s father.
Next to Edward, Devon recognized a younger Reed Hutchins: cowboy hat in one hand, his arm around the waist of beautiful woman with light hair. She must have been Athena. Devon could almost see Hutch in his grandmother’s smiling pose.…
“Where were you?” a voice barked.
Devon whirled to see Matt standing behind her. His black eye was fading into a greenish half-moon at the top of his cheekbone. He scowled. “I showed up for our session and Robins was sitting in your chair.”
“Did he tell you why I wasn’t there?” she asked meekly.
“He said you were out of the program. He thought I’d talk to him instead. Why the hell would I do that?” Matt wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead.
“I’m sorry I didn’t say anything before you met with him,” Devon said, and she meant it. “I wanted to tell you, but after our last session, I wasn’t sure if you’d even show up.”
Matt chewed on the inside of his cheek. “Don’t you ever just want to disappear for a bit? Clear your head?” Devon wasn’t sure how to answer that. Matt shook his head. “Whatever, don’t mind me. I wanted to tell you something. In session. But here’s OK, too.” He sat down at Devon’s table and waited until Devon was sitting, too. “I gave it up. All of it.” He raised an eyebrow, waiting and holding his breath until she responded.
“All of it? Like.…” Was he saying what she thought he was saying?
“All of it. I’m not supplying anything to anyone. Bodhi wants to get back at me, rat me out. His loss. He’s got nothing. I’m not taking anything either. Seemed like I maybe needed to get my head straight again. I don’t feel great, but at least I’m clear.”
“Wow. So, no more pills? Matt, that’s.…” Don’t judge. Or was this about reinforcing positive behavior? No, that was dog training. “That’s great.”
“It’s all gone, except, I’m keeping one piece of leverage over Bodhi if he ever wants to mess with me.” Matt smiled to himself. He still thinks the book is under Hutch’s mattress, Devon realized. “But I’m out. So, stop asking me for drugs all the time, okay?”
His smiled widened, and Devon smiled, too. They sat there for a beat, holding each other’s gaze. The tension between them in the Peer Counseling room was gone. Strange: Matt had been right; the last time they’d spoken was their freshman year camping trip. Then, it was a brief flicker of a friendship that never materialized, but now there was something new. Something tangible. I think he respects me.
Could that be right? The thought was unfamiliar, like trying a new language. Devon was used to being out of the loop, on the fringe of everything. It was almost comforting to know that her place would always be as an observer, not the observed. But