If These Wings Could Fly - Kyrie McCauley Page 0,54
reach, but maybe, if I try, it’ll get closer, pebble by pebble, until I can take a sip.
“I did have one idea. But I already know it isn’t something the Auburn Township Council will want to read.”
Mrs. Riley laughs. “Then it’s probably something they should read.”
I give her a half smile. “Maybe it is.”
“If it’s controversial, it might not win, Leighton. But you should trust your writing, and your voice. At the very least, you’ll force six middle-aged, privileged white men to read something that matters to a seventeen-year-old girl. Maybe it’ll plant a seed. And if you do win, you’ll get your first byline.”
“What?”
“The winning essay gets printed in the Auburn Gazette. You’ll have your first real publishing credential.”
The prospect is terrifying.
And tempting.
But I know what kind of men are on the council. Men who look the other way. Police officers, teachers, and old family friends.
Last year in trigonometry class, my teacher kept mocking a woman who’d been on TV all week testifying about a senator’s history of harassment. He said, “If everyone is a victim, then it’s like no one is,” and I felt shame like scalding water on my spine, and stopped raising my hand in class.
And in the diner, when I sometimes catch the end of Mom’s shift, I hear the way the men flirt with her, how she tolerates their rudeness. If she didn’t, she’d lose tips. Or a job.
Auburn born, Auburn proud. But there’s only one acceptable way to live here, and when you deviate from that narrow path, then you are the threat. Like your voice will crumble their entire world.
Maybe it’s true.
Maybe it would break this town to know that the best athlete to ever come out of Auburn, who carried his team to a state championship and would’ve gone pro, has fallen, and he’s taking his family with him.
But some things should fall apart. They should burn themselves out, like a candle that’s run its wick to the bottom. It’s dangerous to wish for such a thing, though, because some flames are too selfish to extinguish themselves.
There are flames that would set the whole world on fire if it were the only way to keep burning.
Chapter Forty
AT THE END OF THE DAY, I fill my backpack while dread settles into my stomach. My mom is taking the girls to dentist appointments, so if I get on the bus and go right home, I’ll just be there alone with him. Normally, I would hide in the newspaper office for a few hours, but Mrs. Riley is already gone and the office is locked for the night.
Liam joins me at our lockers and kisses my cheek.
“I have something for you,” Liam says. “But it’s kind of a private gift and I don’t want to explain it here.”
A junior next to us looks over but doesn’t say anything. I raise my eyebrows as a gentle reminder that she can mind her own business, and she hurries away.
“Okay. Well. My bus is leaving soon,” I say.
“Yeah, but your sisters have dentist appointments. You can’t go home.”
I’m surprised that Liam even remembered that from when we talked on the phone last night. It was just casually mentioned. I’m more surprised that he has taken it a step further and understands the implications of no one else being home after school.
“Office is closed for the paper, and I don’t have a ride,” I explain.
“We have weights and game tape viewing until five. Is that too late?”
“No, that’s fine; are you sure you don’t mind?”
“Yeah. I’ll be in the weight room, but the gym will be open. You can hang out and read or whatever.”
We start walking toward the gym as we talk, and I know I’ve already made up my mind.
“Thanks,” I say.
Liam pauses outside the gym.
“You can’t be late—Coach will kill you. Or make you run sprints, which in my book is the same thing.”
Liam laughs. He looks nervous. Oh, right, the thing. He has something for me.
“What is it?”
He reaches into his backpack and pulls out a phone.
“It’s an older model. It’s actually my old one. But it works perfectly fine.”
Everything clicks into place at once. He got me a phone.
A lifeline.
To use in an emergency.
I sniffle and try to ignore the gigantic frog in my throat.
“That’s really thoughtful, Liam. I can’t even tell you . . . thank you.”
“If you keep it charged, it can at least call 911, until next week, and then it will work for normal phone calls and texting, too.”