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brIELLE

P reston moped at his desk while sorting through a stack of tests for Monday. I needed them back in order after I’d accidentally dropped them on my way back from the printer. Of course, I’d had him take the test before starting the task. He hadn’t been pleased about that either.

When his nana—Mrs. Bellingham—had called and asked if the last day of his out-of-school suspension could be switched to in-school, I’d agreed. She couldn’t take the full week off, and I understood.

I was beyond happy it was Friday, and I had the weekend off with very little homework. Preston was there to help me around the classroom after hours as part of his punishment, though I only stayed an extra hour every now and then if I had tasks to do that couldn’t be done outside the classroom.

He’d glanced out the windows more than once, and I could tell he wished he were on the football field with the rest of the team.

It sucked that he’d been benched—for a short time—from the sport as part of his punishment, but maybe that would be what sank in the most. I’d taken a chance and talked with his coach, explaining what I thought was happening.

I wanted Preston to have every opportunity to find a squad and exorcise his ghosts when he returned to practice.

As he worked quietly, I gathered the nerve to share something deeply personal with him, all in an attempt to reach the troubled kid.

“Hey, Preston.” I came around to the front of my desk and leaned against it while facing him. “I think I understand why you’ve been acting the way you have. It’s really hard to adjust to losing someone.”

“No.”

Mutinous eyes met mine, and I had to suppress a shudder.

“You have no idea, so please spare me your bullshit answers.”

He would be a hard nut to crack, but I had to try. “I’m going to let your response slide, for now.”

“Ya know, save your pity for someone else.” Preston sneered. “You think I haven’t heard all kinds of crap before? From teachers that actually work here, not a wannabe like you. Counselors too. I don’t want to hear it, so please just stop.”

My shoulders slumped, but I couldn’t give into defeat.

Not yet. He deserved someone wading into the depths of hell alongside him.

And I knew his family did—constantly—but sometimes, it helped to hear a stranger’s experience or perspective, so I ignored the hostility and pushed on.

“I get it. I don’t really have a dad. Not anymore.

It sucks. And… no one can say anything to make it better. ”

“Then maybe you do get it.” He crossed his arms over his chest, the glare lessening only slightly. “There’s no reason to say anything. It doesn’t matter.”

I shrugged. “Sometimes that’s the case. Nothing anyone else says matters, but the thing is… you’re not alone. You’re not on an island of I’ve-lost-my-parents by yourself. Lots of others share the same horrible hand you’ve been dealt. And sometimes, that helps.”

He said nothing, and I took that as permission to forge ahead. My situation was different, but maybe sharing it could get through to him and help. “Grief is like drowning. It’s a horrible range of conflicting emotions, and right now, you’re stuck in the anger phase.”

“What are you supposed to be, a shrink? I don’t need anything from you. I’m fine. My parents died two years ago. It’s not like it just happened.”

I tilted my head. “That’s the thing, though. If you don’t work through your feelings, they don’t get better.”

“Why do you care?” His lip lifted in a sneer. “It’s not like you would know anything about what it’s like. As you said, your parents aren’t dead.”

“I may not have lost my dad in the traditional sense, but he isn’t in my life anymore. Not daily, anyway. My dad went to jail for corporate fraud. His illegal activities cost our family our home, income, and stability, and essentially tore our existence apart. It was… hard.”

“Not the same thing.” He threw himself back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. “He’s still here. You can go see him.”

“That’s true.” I tucked a few strands of hair behind my ear.

“But it’s not why I wanted to share some of my story with you.

Grief comes in so many forms. For me, it was abandonment, helplessness, and betrayal.

I lashed out at my mom every chance I got.

Her way to deal is to drink. She’s drunk more often than she’s sober.

My little sis? She’s terrified for her future.

It was all mapped out, and now everything’s changed. ”

“Big fucking deal.”

I sucked in air, willing myself to be patient.

“My point in all this is that when you lose a parent, a feeling of helplessness follows. Find the people who lift you up, and spend time with them, not those who encourage you to wallow and sink into destructive tendencies. You’re taking out your pain on the people around you. It’s not the answer.”

“Okay, wise one,” Preston mocked. “What’s the answer? ”

He could be such a little shit, but I also got it. Lashing out was better than feeling the pain that never went away. And that boy was swimming in it.

“The answer is to control what you can and let the rest go, as it’s out of your realm of influence.

You need to find a way to forgive what happened to your parents and let the love you have for them find peace in your heart.

Then you need to forgive yourself.” I waited a beat, hoping some of that would sink in before hitting him up with the rest. “Grief is inevitable, but how you handle yourself going forward should be about the person you want to become. Let go of the childish response of feeling sorry for yourself.”

Silence hung in the air, and I held my breath as he dropped his slightly less angry eyes to his desk. Could I have gotten through to him, even just a little? I hoped so. Telling him anything about my family had the potential to backfire, but getting through to him was worth it.

“I’m always here for you if you want to talk, and I know that your uncle and grandmother are too.”

Silence vibrated between us, and I didn’t dare say anything more. I waited to see if he would reject me or maybe take hold of the branch I offered. Another minute passed, and still, I waited.

“Will you tell me about what happened to your family and how you dealt with it?” His eyes narrowed, that don’t-mess-with-me expression clear. “And don’t bullshit me, or talk down to me like a kid.”

“Fine.” I squared my shoulders, barely stopping myself from thrusting a fist in the air in victory.

He’d tentatively accepted my offer, and if keeping things real would help him see his lot differently and heal, I would tell him every horrible detail about how my life, and my sister’s, had changed in an afternoon.