Adam and I sat there for a few minutes, neither of us saying anything much. Adam didn't ask what it was that I wanted to talk to Crane and him
about. I could tell he wasn't going to, either. He knew I wanted Crane there, and so he wouldn't ask.
We talked about D.C. a bit, and Adam said he'd noticed that Warrior had been limping earlier in the day. He said he'd looked at
Warrior's paw, and hadn't seen anything to worry about.
"He probably just stepped on something," Adam said. "You might want to keep an eye on it, though. The right front."
"Okay," I said. "I'll look at it after a bit, too."
After another couple moments of quiet, I asked, "Are you tired?"
"Not too much. It's nice to just sit for awhile, though."
"Yeah," I said, in agreement.
Adam gave my knee a pat. "I think I'll make a pot of coffee."
"It's a wonder you don't have coffee in your veins," I said.
"Maybe I do," Adam said.
As he moved to get up, I said, "Adam?"
Adam paused, sitting near the edge of the couch seat. "Hmm?"
"When Crane gets here, I need to talk to him about school." I wasn't sure why I was telling Adam that now. It just seemed as though
it simmered to the surface of my tongue and then-that was it. Still, I thought now that it might be good to talk to Adam a little first, anyway.
"School, huh?" he said.
"Yeah," I said, sort of subdued.
"You having problems at school?"
I hesitated. "Well-yeah."
"With your classes?"
I nodded, and Adam sat all the way back against the couch cushions again.
"What's going on?" he asked. Ford came in from the direction of the kitchen, a glass of iced tea in one hand. I gave him a pointed look, meant to
urge him to sit down and stay nearby. Ford read that look and sat down opposite us.
"I wanted Ford to stay," I told Adam, in explanation.
Adam nodded, looked at Ford, and then back at me. "So-what's going on?" he asked me, again.
I knew Adam meant his question in general, not specifically, so I gave a general sort of answer. General, maybe, but blunt.
"My grades are bad," I said.
Adam wrinkled his forehead a bit. "Are they?"
I nodded.
"Hmm," Adam said, again, sounding serious. "Well-"
Whatever Adam had been about to say, or to ask, was interrupted by the front door opening, and the screen flapping closed.
Crane came in, carrying an armful of books. "Hey," he said, in greeting.
"Hey," Adam answered, but I didn't say anything.
Crane went to lay the books on the desk, and then turned towards Adam and I. He went to sit opposite us in one of the recliners.
"How was your lunch?" Adam asked him. I was glad for that, because it made things seem more normal, not as though this giant
impending talk was about to happen.
"It was good," Crane said.
"You try that new place out?" Adam asked him, and for a couple of minutes they talked about the new restaurant that had opened in Angels Camp.
After that, Crane looked at me, and said, "What's up?"
I opened my mouth, and then closed it again. Looking at Crane, I just couldn't seem to say what I'd just told Adam.
Crane gave me an expectant look, obviously waiting. I could hear the big clock ticking in that silence.
"I'm not doing very well at school," I said, in a sudden burst of fast words.
Crane wrinkled his forehead and said, "Anatomy?"
I nodded, and then added, "And trig."
"Both?" he asked.
I gave another brief nod in answer.
Crane looked puzzled. "What's happened since you showed me that test a week or so back?"
I was quiet, to think. Nothing had really happened since I'd done that-I'd been on the edge of disaster even then. I just hadn't wanted
to tell him.
"Nothing, really," I said.
Crane looked even more perplexed. "You didn't say it was that bad then-"
"I know," I interrupted.
"Well, you'll have to buckle down," Crane said.
"I'll try," I said, and Ford caught my eye, giving me a look that wordlessly shouted, 'Tell him the truth!'
"It's pretty late to be buckling down, actually," I said, then.
"What do you mean, it's pretty late?" Crane asked.
"Harlie, stop dancing around it," Adam said.
I looked at Adam, and he had a no-nonsense look about him, as if he was somewhat irritated.
I took a deeper breath, and looked at Crane. "My grades are pretty bad," I said.
"How bad?" he asked, directly.
"I've got a D in trig," I said.
Crane sighed and looked like he was thinking hard.
At another one of those shooting glares from Ford, I said, "And a D in Anatomy."
"Harlie," Crane said, and he said it in that voice that I hate. The disappointed one. The one that says I've crushed all his hopes and dreams
for me. That one that makes me feel like slime.
There was nothing to say, though. So, I said nothing.
Crane leaned forward a little, resting his arms on his knees, and folding his hands. "How?"
How?
"I don't know," I said.
That was it. I knew as soon as I said it, that it was the absolute worst thing I could have said.
Crane's look of painful disappointment became one of fury.
"Harlie-" he began, sounding harsh.
"I do know," I said, quickly. "I've been having too much fun. I've been lazy. And unmotivated. And distracted."
Ford was staring at me. If I'd thought my honest outburst would shock Crane into looking less angry, I would have been wrong.
Crane was silent. He was still looking at me with that jaw-set sort of an expression.
I leaned forward a little. "I'm sorry I took all these hard classes," I said, telling Crane what I'd said to Ford earlier. "I could have spaced some of
them out until next year or something-I took on too much."
Crane looked even more crushed. If that was possible. "Wow," he said.
I had no idea what that 'wow' really meant. I didn't want to know, either.
"Most kids in my grade aren't taking these classes," I began.
"Not talking about any other kids," Crane interrupted me. "Just you."
"Well, okay," I said. "Then-I wish I'd never taken on so much," I said, for the second time.
"But, you did," Crane said.
For a long moment I blinked at Crane, confused. I did what?
"What?" I asked.
"You did take it on," Crane said. "You chose the classes, instead of waiting until next year. You made a commitment, to take them, and to
do your best."
I felt tears pricking at the corners of my eyes. I did not want to cry, so I tried my darnest to keep it at bay.
"I know," I said. "But, I regret it now-"
"Too bad," Crane said. He said it in so clipped a tone that I blinked at him again. I'd known Crane would be upset. I'd figured on him laying down
the law on me going out until my grades came up...
Somehow, I hadn't figured on this. This-level of hardness in his manner, and the way he was talking to me...
A few tears made it to the surface, and I gave Ford a 'please help me' look.
"You don't get in the middle of the race and decide you want to quit, Harlie," Crane went on.
"You're not being fair," I accused, swiping at the corner of one eye.
"Hey," I heard Adam say, in mild admonishment, but I didn't look at him. He wasn't helping me, anyway.
"How am I being unfair?" Crane asked, and the air seemed to crackle.
"I wanted to make you proud-" I began, hoping to shame him into being nicer.
"You took those classes because you wanted to take them, Harlie. It was your decision. I did try to point out the pitfalls to you. Remember?" Crane said.
Of course I remembered. I'd had to badger Crane to sign the permission form for the senior classes, and for the work program. He had, at the time,
talked about my health, and how I tended to take on too much-giving me a heads up on those pitfalls, like he'd said.
"This isn't about whether we're proud of you or not," Adam said, speaking up really for the first time in the tense conversation, and he rested a hand
on my lower back as I leaned forward. "This is about your grades. About failing classes. About how we need to figure this out."
I felt like moving away from his hand. It wasn't comforting to me right at that moment, although I was honest enough to know that he
meant it as such. But, I didn't shake his hand off. That would be like waving a red flag in front of a bull.
"Your every effort until progress reports come out needs to be on getting those grades up," Crane said.
"She's willing to do that," Ford said, in my defense. "She's just not sure how to go about it."
"She knows what she needs to do, Ford," Crane said, obviously not impressed by Ford's input.
"She can't get extra credit-" Ford continued in his defense efforts.
Crane's eyes were piercing. "You've asked about extra credit?" he asked me.
"Yes. I did, but Mr. Price said he doesn't usually do that."
Crane sat back against the couch cushions. "Hmm."
I was sitting on the very edge of the couch seat, and Adam tapped my back with his fingers. "Sit back here, Harlie," he told me.
I guess Adam thought I was going to take flight or something.
I sighed, but I did what he said, and he rested his arm around my shoulders.
"It sounds like you've known things were bad for more than a little while," Crane said, and I felt the pit in my stomach get harder. Here it was.
The part I'd been really dreading. Them thinking I'd concealed all this from them knowingly-
There was no getting around it. "Yeah," I said, sort of low.
"Yeah, what?" Crane prompted.
"Yes, I've known," I said, a little louder.
"Well, then you've had time to have done something about it," Crane said. "Right?" Bat shit. He was merciless.
I sighed, and felt the beginnings of a headache on one side of my head.
"I talked to Mr. Price about extra credit," I reminded him. "And-I've done some extra reading ahead today in my anatomy book-"
Clearly not impressed, Crane was silent, and I blinked at the tears that were now apparent, to all of them. "Yes. I've had time," I admitted.
"You were doing alright last quarter, weren't you?" Adam asked.
I nodded in answer, and Adam said, "So-what happened this time around? Not enough studying, or what?"
"I guess," I said. "Having too much fun."
"You gotta have some fun, too," Ford offered up. I gave him a sad sort of thank you look.
"Nobody's saying that fun's not important, too," Adam said. I felt the tips of his fingers tap my shoulder gently.
"You knew what you had to do," Crane said. "If you've dropped the ball, you've got to pick it back up. And quick, too."
I said okay, because it seemed as though he expected an answer of some sort.
"Let me take a look at your daily planner," Crane said, and I felt a rise of definite unease. The daily planner is the notebook that students are supposed
to write down upcoming assignments and tests in, along with homework assigned. You're supposed to write it in, every single class, every single
day. Sometimes a teacher will randomly ask to look at your planner, and if it's not filled out, you can get told off. No teacher had asked to see mine
at all this whole school year. Even Mr. Price hadn't asked, when he'd had that private chat with me.
I didn't want Crane to look at that planner. It had very little written in it. I mostly just winged it, remembering on my own when a test was, or a quiz, or
what homework had been assigned.
I hesitated, not moving. I wasn't even sure that I'd brought the planner out of the top of my locker where it lived generally.
"How come?" I dared. I didn't say it disrespectfully. But, the fact that I uttered it at all was enough.
Crane gave me such a look then. I mean-it was enough to fry me right where I sat.
Adam tapped me again. Not so gently this time. "You do as you're asked," Adam ordered.
"I'm not sure I brought it home," I said, in honesty.
"Well, take a look," Crane said.
I got up and picked up my back pack at the side of Ford's chair, sifting thru it. Ah. And there it was. Bent up and covered with remnants
of a candy bar that I'd gotten out of the vending machine one day. I took it out, brushing at the dried chocolate.
Crane was holding out his hand, expectantly. Waiting. I went the few steps and handed the planner off to him.
"This thing's seen better days," he said.
I went to sit back down beside Adam, and Crane opened the planner, flipping thru the pages up to where I figured it was the dates of the last couple of
weeks.
"Nothing written down here, Harlie," Crane said. Needlessly, because I already knew that.
He closed the planner again.
"Start writing down your assignments and homework in here," Crane said.
I nodded, feeling glum. My stomach hurt now.
"No going out until your grades are up," Crane said. Not a surprise.
"Okay," I said, controlling the stupid tears.
Crane's facial expression softened. "You can do it, Harlie. You've shown before that you can. Just get back on track."
I nodded in answer, but not speaking.
As if on cue, the rest of the family began filtering back in. Some from the kitchen, some from outside. I was beyond relieved that nobody else
had overheard the conversation. Or more like interrogation, not conversation, I thought to myself, feeling flattened, like a burst balloon.
I got up as quick as I could, and headed for the front door. Once outside, I called for Warrior, and then went to greet him, halfway across the yard.
He was limping slightly, and I crouched down to look at his foot. I had my face buried in his fur, feeling embarrassed and upset by what had
happened. Evan was up on me before I even heard him coming.
"What's up?" he asked me, and I jerked, startled.
"Nothing," I said. "There's something wrong with his foot-"
"Yeah?" Evan asked, crouching down beside the dog and I.
"This one," I said, lifting Warrior's paw. Evan looked at the top and then at the pad of Warrior's foot.
"I can't see anything," I said.
"Probably got a bruise from a rock," Evan said. "We can put some salve on it."
"You have some?" I asked, and he nodded.
"See if he'll walk out to the barn," Evan said.
Warrior and I walked, slower, and followed Evan to the barn, where he found a tube of salve, and together we put some on the
bottom of Warrior's foot.
"You can put that on a couple times a day," Evan said.
"Thanks," I said.
Evan straightened to a standing position, and laid the tube of salve on a shelf.
Evan offered to go for a horseback ride, telling me he would ride D.C., so he could get a workout. I knew without even considering it that
I couldn't. I'd already gone for a ride with Ford, and there was no putting off the rest of my homework. Crane would, no doubt, want to
look over it, even though he hadn't said that, exactly.
Ford came out of the house, and walked over to where Evan and I were standing beside the barn. He had his bag slung over his shoulder. The bag was,
more than likely, full of clean clothes that Hannah had washed for him, and plenty of sweets. Cookies and banana bread.
"I gotta get started back," he said.
I nodded. "Thanks for sticking around," I said. "I appreciate it."
Ford gave me a sympathetic look. "It'll be okay, Har. Just do your best."
"I'm not gonna be able to make a move from now on," I said, glumly.
"It won't be that bad," Ford said.
He reached out with his free arm and pulled me to him, giving me a hug.
"Can I call you?" I asked him, against his shoulder.
"Anytime you need to. Leave a message if I'm not there, and I'll call you back pronto," Ford said.
I felt like crying again. "I love you," I said.
"I love you, too," Ford said. He leaned back a little, and let his gaze settle on my face. "Hang in there, okay?"
"I'll try," I said, without confidence.
7