Sea Glass Island. Sherryl Woods

thought of this dance he and Samantha were performing. Stubborn wills were playing a role in that, too, he conceded before snapping his attention back to the moment.

      “So, it’s okay if I pick her up? If she refuses, I won’t cause a scene. I’ll let you know she’s heading home.”

      “Thanks, Ethan. You really are a saint for putting up with Cass.”

      “I’m not just ‘putting up with her.’ She’s a good kid. She just needs to remember that she still has a lot to offer the world.”

      It was a lesson that had been a long time coming for him. In fact, it was one with which he still struggled from time to time, especially when it came to opening his heart. Just look at how determined he was to keep Samantha at arm’s length. It must be a hundred times harder for an insecure teen who’d just been figuring out her own identity when the accident happened.

      * * *

      With Debra, Pam and Greg keeping an eye on the other kids in Ethan’s program until he could get back, Ethan stood outside the high school and watched for Cass to emerge. It wasn’t hard to spot her.

      While the other kids spilled out in chattering clusters, she exited alone, an angry expression on her face. Ethan suspected only he saw the desperate longing in her eyes as she surreptitiously glanced at her classmates.

      When she spotted him, though, her frown deepened, but she didn’t turn away or try to avoid him.

      “What are you doing here?” she demanded, confronting him belligerently.

      “Waiting for you,” he said, falling into step beside her.

      “I’m not going hiking, so you might as well take off.”

      “You know that hiking, at least the way we do it, is nothing more than going for a walk, right?”

      “Which makes it a dumb way to spend the afternoon,” she retorted.

      “Not if you’re one of the kids who has trouble walking at all,” he reminded her.

      “But I’m not,” she countered. “My legs are perfectly fine. It’s my arm that’s gone, remember? Or do you not see what’s right in front of you?” She waved the arm with her prosthesis to emphasize her point.

      “Then today maybe you could help one of the kids who’s not as lucky. It might make you feel good to do something for someone else. You could push Trevor in his wheelchair, for instance.”

      “Hello!” she said sarcastically. “One arm, remember?”

      “And a perfectly good prosthesis on the other,” he said without any hint of sympathy. “Or haven’t you mastered it yet?”

      She scowled at the suggestion that a lack of skill was behind her refusal to join the hike. “You know I have.”

      He gave her a sly glance. “Then prove it.”

      Cass heaved a sigh, clearly aware that she was going to lose in the end. Or maybe even wanting to participate, as long as she could do it grudgingly, as a favor to him. “Fine. I’ll come on the stupid hike. And I’ll push Trevor’s wheelchair so fast he’ll squeal like a little girl.”

      Ethan bit back a grin. “Thank you. I’m sure he’ll appreciate your daredevil tendencies.” He gestured across the street. “My car’s right over there.”

      “I should probably call my mom and tell her I changed my mind,” she told him.

      “Good idea, though I told her I was going to try to convince you to come along this afternoon.”

      After Cass made the call, Ethan waited until they were halfway to the clinic before asking casually, “So, anything new in your life these days?”

      “I go to school. I go home. It’s not exactly material for a TV show.”

      “No after-school activities that interest you?” he prodded, knowing that at one time she’d been active in the drama club. She’d been cast in every play at the middle school and starred in one her first year at the high school. All, though, he realized now, had been before the accident.

      “None,” she said flatly.

      Ethan glanced over and caught the tear that had leaked out, aware then that he’d hit on something. “I thought you were going to try out for the school play.”

      She whirled on him. “Do not mention that stupid play to me, okay? I didn’t get the lead. I didn’t even get a walk-on. I heard Mrs. Gentry tell another teacher it was a real shame to waste my talent, but she thought my prosthesis would be a distraction. She sounded all sad and sympathetic, but it was fake. I think she was glad to be able to give that twit Sue Ellen the lead. Like Sue Ellen will be able to remember her lines,” she scoffed. “She’s so busy batting her eyes at every guy in school, she can barely remember her own name.”

      Ethan felt a swell of fury on Cass’s behalf. It was one thing for kids to be inadvertently cruel to each other, but teachers should have more sensitivity. “Sounds to me as if Mrs. Gentry needs to be replaced.”