A Soldier's Promise. Cynthia Thomason

tonight.”

      Why did that suddenly sound shallow?

      “Sure, I understand,” Carrie said. “I guess I was wrong. I thought you’d be easy to talk to.”

      Me? I seem easy to talk to?

      Carrie continued, “I don’t have any friends here. Where I used to live, one of my teachers talked to me a lot. She even came to my mother’s...”

      “Your mother’s what?”

      “Never mind. It’s not important. I shouldn’t have come here. I’ll go.”

      “I don’t mean to sound short with you,” Brenna said, “but you should be home. And you sound like a girl who just needs to make some friends her own age. There are lots of ways to make friends. On Monday we can discuss it. You can join a club...or something.”

      “Sure, I’ll do that.” Carrie stood and walked slowly to the steps leading from the porch. With each footfall, Brenna felt the sting of her conscience. But she didn’t want to be this kind of teacher again, the Diana kind. She’d tried it once and still suffered from her decisions. Besides, Diana was used to Mount Union kids being in her house 24/7. She had a son in high school and a husband who worked at the school. And she hadn’t been through what Brenna had been through at her last job. Brenna had only herself, and she just couldn’t risk getting involved like that again.

      Why hadn’t Carrie gone to Diana’s? Brenna watched her walking away and sighed deeply. When Carrie reached the sidewalk, Brenna called to her. She almost didn’t recognize her own voice. “Are you hungry?”

      Carrie turned. “A little.”

      Brenna managed a quick mental survey of her refrigerator. “I could probably rustle up some mac and cheese and a couple hot dogs.”

      “I could eat that.”

      “Okay, then. Come on back.” Brenna stood. “We can talk a bit if you want. And then you’ll go home, okay?”

      “Sure. Okay.”

      Brenna unlocked her door. “I’ll get out of my teacher clothes and fix us that mac and cheese.”

      She changed into worn cutoffs and a T-shirt and gathered her humidity-frizzed red curls into a ponytail. So much for getting to the Riverview on time.

      During dinner preparations she and Carrie talked about Mount Union High School. Brenna gave her some tips on what kids in town did, where the closest movie theater was, things she thought would interest a sophomore. She also told Carrie about the Cultural Arts Center that was being planned for the community. Brenna was chairing the committee for the center and hoped it would be beneficial in a town that offered little in the way of teen activities.

      “Besides the center being a meeting place for teens, we’re going to offer special classes,” Brenna said. “Drama, music, other courses that have been eliminated due to budget cuts.”

      “Classes?” the girl asked. “Over and above having classes in school?”

      Okay, maybe that sounded lame, but Brenna knew several students who would take advantage of enrichment courses. “There will be activities, too,” she explained to Carrie. “Movies, dances, games, a whole range of choices.”

      Carrie didn’t comment on the center, but halfway through the cheesy casserole, Brenna saw the girl smile for the first time.

      “This is really good,” the girl said. “Thanks for fixing it.”

      “You’re welcome. We make this in class, you know. About midway through the semester.”

      “That’ll be cool.”

      Brenna carried her plate to the sink and looked over her backyard. The sun was setting, turning the trees on the other side of the river to gold. “It’s late,” she said. “Maybe you’d better call your father and tell him to pick you up.”

      “He’s not worried about me.”

      “Well, regardless, you can’t walk home in the dark. It’s a long way to the mill.”

      “I’ll be okay. I take care of myself.”

      Brenna took her seat on the other side of the table and stared at Carrie for a moment. The girl looked down and forked her leftover noodles around the plate. “Is there something you’d like to tell me, Carrie?” Brenna asked, hoping the girl wasn’t harboring a big secret, the kind that had led to heartbreaking decisions once before. She swallowed, knowing she could have opened the door to something she didn’t really want to hear. “Is everything all right at home?”

      Brenna held her breath. Please just let this be a case of a new kid in town who’s experiencing some loneliness.

      Carrie mumbled into her lap. “It’s that obvious?”

      Oh, boy. “Is someone treating you badly?” Brenna asked.

      Carrie swallowed hard. She didn’t answer the question.

      Brenna leaned over the table but resisted the instinct to place her hand over the girl’s. “Has someone hurt you, Carrie?”

      Still no answer. Carrie didn’t look up.

      “Because if so, there are people who can help. But you need to tell someone...”

      She never finished giving advice because movement in front of her house caught her eye. Through her open door she saw a police cruiser pull to the curb. Carrie gasped and stood up.

      “This is about you, isn’t it?” Brenna said.

      “Maybe. I don’t know. I didn’t mean to be any trouble. I’ll just go out the back...”

      “No, you won’t. You’re coming with me.”

      Like a prisoner being led to the gallows, Carrie walked ahead of Brenna to the living room. She sat in a chair out of sight of the front door. Brenna opened the screen to police officers she knew well. “Hi, Boone, Lila. What’s going on?”

      “We’ve had a missing-kid report, Bren,” Boone said. “She’s one of your students and we’re following every lead.” He took out a photo and showed it to Brenna. “This is the girl.”

      A sweet face surrounded by a tumble of black curls smiled at Brenna from a typical school photo.

      “Her name’s Carolyn Langston,” Lila Menendez said. “Her father’s about ready to tear the town apart.”

      Brenna opened the door wider. “Come on in.”

      The officers walked to the middle of the room and stared at Carrie. “You’re her, all right,” Boone said. He pressed a button on a device on his shoulder. “Located the girl. She’s at...” He waited for Brenna to give him her exact address and repeated it.

      “How’d she end up here, Brenna?” he asked.

      She briefly explained how she’d found Carrie on her porch. “Can we talk outside?” she asked the officer.

      “Sure.” Boone spoke to his partner. “Lila, you stay here with the kid. Make sure she doesn’t go anywhere.”

      The young police officer crouched beside Carrie. In a soft voice she said, “Are you okay, honey?”

      Carrie nodded and Brenna led Boone to the end of the porch, where their voices wouldn’t carry to the interior of the house. “I think this kid’s in trouble,” Brenna said. “I’m suspecting some kind of abuse.”

      “Did you see any injuries?”

      “No, but she’s very unhappy. She doesn’t want to go home.”

      “Well, Brenna, that describes a bunch of teenagers. Even me a few years ago.”

      “That may be, but this girl’s reaching out for help. I think you need to notify someone in authority.”