She Was the Quiet One. Michele Campbell

at Heath for one long, terrible second, and burst into tears.

      “Oh,” Heath said, flushing. “Jesus, I’m an idiot. I’m so sorry. I know you lost your mother. I should have been more careful. I was only trying to make you feel better, but I put my foot in it.”

      “No, it’s okay,” she whispered, but her shoulders were heaving, and she couldn’t stop crying.

      Heath handed her a napkin from the table, and she blotted at her eyes, her body wracked with sobs. He looked at her with such concern that Bel saw the tragedy of her plight reflected in his beautiful eyes, and the worst moments flooded back. Her mother’s face when she told them the diagnosis. Seeing her mother get thinner, lose her hair. The day her mother died. Hearing her grandmother tell them they had to go away to school. Being mean to Rose in the dining hall, feeling terrible about it, and having Rose refuse to speak to her afterward. Now she really couldn’t stop crying. Heath dragged his chair around the small table, until he sat beside her, an inch away.

      “Bel,” he said softly.

      She looked up at him, and she realized she wasn’t afraid of him anymore, or nervous around him. He felt like a friend.

      “I’m sorry,” she said, through tears. “I’m embarrassed to flake out on you like this. But my life is just—It’s so fucking dark.”

      He glanced around at the empty patio, then reached out and squeezed her shoulder. “You can tell me. Nobody’s here. You can say anything.”

      “Why did both my parents have to die?” she said. “Why me? Like, who does that happen to? First my dad when I was little. Then my mom. It’s so unfair.”

      “I agree. Very unfair.”

      “I’m being punished.”

      “That’s not true. How could it be? You’re a child. You’ve done nothing wrong.”

      “I’m ungrateful. That’s what Rose says. I ought to be glad our grandmother took us in, and sent us here, but I’m not. I’m angry.”

      “There’s nothing wrong with how you feel,” he said. “It’s completely normal.”

      “What I’m really saying is, I don’t like Odell. I actually kind of hate it.”

      “I understand. This place can grind you down. Make you feel like you’re not good enough. It did that to me, at first.”

      “Really?”

      “Yes. It took me a long time to prove myself here. To find my place.”

      “Wait. You went to school here?”

      “You didn’t know? I was actually very happy at Odell—not right away, but eventually. Right? I mean, I came back to teach, though sometimes I think I’m still trying to show them. Maybe that’s why I came back. I could tell you stories about what it was like, what I went through. I’ve been low, myself. I’ve been so low. You can’t imagine.”

      She looked up into his eyes, holding her breath, afraid he would stop confiding in her.

      “Tell me,” she whispered.

      “I shouldn’t. I can’t—well, maybe I’ll tell you another time. But believe me when I say that bad things have happened in my life. Here at Odell, and elsewhere. Things that almost pulled me under, that I thought I would never recover from. But I did. I got past it. And you can, too. You remind me of myself, you know.”

      “I do? How?”

      “Maybe I’m projecting. But the way you’re so quiet in class, and yet, I can tell how deeply you’re feeling things. You’re a dreamer. So am I.”

      “Yes. You see. You understand me.” Her eyes filled with tears again.

      “That gives me some insight into how to help you, Bel. You need something to dream about. A focus, something special to work toward. If you could find that, I think you could be successful here. I think you could even be happy. Will you try?”

      “I want to, Heath. I worry that I’m not up to it,” Bel said.

      There, she’d used his name. Was he going to rebuke her? But no, he took her hand, and she held on, like he could save her from the flood.

      “Don’t sell yourself short. If you could see the girl I see, I know you’d believe in yourself. You are up to it,” he said, and there was so much sympathy in his voice that she nearly melted.

      “But I’m not as smart as the kids here,” she said.

      “It’s not true. I’ve seen your file. I admit, your grades aren’t anything to write home about. But your scores are off the charts. You’re very smart, Bel. You just have to do the work, and you’ll succeed.”

      “That’s not the only problem,” she said. “People are mean here. Everyone’s a poser. I feel so lost.”

      “You have your twin sister to fall back on, don’t you?”

      “Not really. Rose and I used to be good friends, but this place is driving us apart. She doesn’t like who I hang out with. She doesn’t approve of my behavior. We fight all the time. I hate it.”

      “Odell can put pressure on relationships, it’s true. You have to ignore the noise. Find some time when it’s just the two of you, and hash things out. Will you try?”

      “I want to make up with her. I do. I’ve been feeling so alone.”

      “You’re not alone, Bel. You have your sister. You also have me.”

      Bel wiped her eyes, and gazed at him. “You mean that?”

      “I do mean it. I’m your advisor, and it’s my job to help you be happy here. As a matter of fact, I have a suggestion.”

      Bel was hoping for something intimate and personal, like the two of them having dinner together. Now that would give her something to live for. Instead Heath suggested that Bel join the cross-country team, which he coached. It would get her out in nature, and the endorphins generated by long-distance running would improve her outlook. Yada yada yada, she thought. But then she realized that he couldn’t ask her to dinner even if he wanted to. It would look weird, and it was probably against the rules. But if she joined the team he coached, she could spend more time with him, and not just time, but time in the woods on the running trails, maybe even alone.

      “I’d love to,” she said.

      “Good, it’s settled. Come to the field house this afternoon at three forty-five, and we’ll get you squared away with a uniform.”

      He glanced at his watch, which made her sad. She didn’t want their meeting to end.

      “I have to get going,” he said. “It’s later than I thought. I’m glad we had this talk, Bel. Everything’s going to be all right. You’re going to be happy here, I promise. Okay?”

      “If you say so.”

      “I do say so.” He stood up and glanced around quickly, making sure that nobody would see. “C’mere, you seem like you could use a hug,” he said, holding out his arms.

      Bel didn’t hesitate. She stepped into his embrace and gloried there, letting herself bask in the warmth of his body, his breath against her hair. She drank in the scent of his shampoo, which made her think of the ocean, of sandalwood. She would’ve stayed like that forever, but he released her, and stepped away.

      “Okay, see you at the field house later,” he said.

      Then he was gone.

      The air felt cooler now—fresher, sweeter, and it smelled of flowers and grass. Somewhere somebody mowed a lawn, and the buzz of the lawn mower was cheerful to her ears. Bel started walking toward Moreland, and the deep green of the trees and the grass was pleasing to her now. There would always be a before and an after. A before and an after