the bleachers. I’d see it. And I wouldn’t have to be the one holding her together on the walk across that floor.
“I’ll call him tomorrow,” I said.
The next morning, between my eight o’clock and my nine o’clock patients, I called the activities director at the high school. Mrs. Larson.
Every senior turns in a form with the names of whoever’s walking her out.
Kaylee’s form said Jodi and Travis. I’d filled it out myself the week before. Without even thinking about it.
Mrs. Larson asked what name she
