Unwritten: The Parker Allenton Chapters (Part 3)

Disclaimer: all characters in this short story are fictional/creations of my own imagination. Sights and locations are based on real cities/towns/National Parks located in the Western United States.

Saturday

Parker wasn’t in lab the next day. Brooklyn sat at the lab table, waiting for him to saunter in the room like he owned the place. The girls at the front table would swoon, Eric offer the daily fist bump, and Parker Allenton would greet Brooklyn the same irritating way he always did.

“Pieper.”

But that didn’t happen. Parker was shockingly absent, not just from lab, but from the school in general. The same thing happened on Friday. Brooklyn again waited for him to walk into psychology and look at her with a smug grin on his face. Her overactive imagination gave him goggle tan lines. Parker Allenton seemed like the type of guy to skip school to go on a ski trip. Actually, when Brooklyn thought long and hard about it, Parker was probably a snowboarder. Skiing just didn’t seem exciting enough.

“We’ve got to be skating right?” Brooklyn rummaged through her closet, phone tucked between her ear and shoulder. “I mean, Parker doesn’t really do anything other than hockey right?”

“Beats me,” Skye responded, her voice crackling through the speaker. “I don’t hang out with the guy anymore, remember?”

“You used to,” A pair of jeans and sweater thumped against the bed as Brooklyn rummaged her way through the closet. There was not a single situation where Brooklyn couldn’t function in a black sweater and jeans. It was perfect for everything, save a five star dinner at a restaurant.

“That was pre-Sports Illustrated Parker.” The disdain in Skye’s voice sliced through the phone like a knife. “You care too much anyway. It’s not, like, a date or anything.”

Brooklyn held in a frustrated sigh. Skye was acting weird since Mr. Smithers assigned the lab partners, but she was especially dismissive of almost anything Brooklyn said or did that related to Parker. It was as though the thought of Brooklyn and Parker together was absolutely unfathomable, not because he was out of Brooklyn’s league, but because she was out of his. That simply wasn’t true, at least, not according to Brooklyn’s standards. If Parker Allenton grew up and acted anywhere close to his age, he might have a chance with Brooklyn.

“Sorry I care about my psych grade.” Brooklyn hid her frustration by tucking the phone under her ear and jumping into her jeans, slamming back onto the ground harder than necessary. Anything to avoid a pointless fight with Skye where she wouldn’t listen and instead manipulate Brooklyn into feeling bad.

“Oh please, it’s not like it matters.” The crinkling of waxing paper filtered through the phone, “All we have to do is write some dumb reflective shit to make Smithers happy.”

“He actually wants us to get to know our partners Skye,” Brooklyn shoved the sweater over her hand and turned her attention to her hair. “You could actually try to get to know Shelly.”

“No can do.” The dismissive tone was back, forcing Brooklyn to take slow, even breaths to hold in her tension. “Besides, what’s there to know? She’s blonde, dumb and loves shopping.”

“She’s not dumb Skye.”

“Please.” Something clattered on Skye’s end of the phone, but she muffled the speaker before Brooklyn could make out any further details.

“You could treat her like she isn’t stupid.” The words poured out of Brooklyn’s mouth before she could stop them, her frustration bubbling over in her defense of Shelly. “She’s actually pretty smart if you give her a chance.”

“Wow, look at you defending the village idiot.” There was a laugh in Skye’s voice, as though she found Brooklyn’s behavior juvenile and comical. “No offense, Brooklyn, but you don’t know Shelly like the rest of us.”

“We’re in Spanish together.”

Another scoff from Skye. “Yeah, Shelly’s so smart. A junior taking Spanish with sophomores.”

Brooklyn rolled her eyes but kept her mouth shut. Technically, she and Shelly were taking Spanish IV, a class meant for seniors with four-plus years of experience with the language. Shelly was actually one of the best students in the class, but Skye would never believe it. She already made up her mind about Shelly, just like she made up her mind about Parker, and nothing Brooklyn could say would change it.

“Alright well, I gotta go.” Experience told Brooklyn to stop the conversation before it even started. “There’s some stuff I gotta take care of before Parker gets here.”

“Parker gets here?” The lilt in Skye’s voice indicated the huge mistake Brooklyn made. For nearly a month she managed to keep Parker from telling the whole school they worked on their lab reports at her house, and now she slipped her own secret to the worst human possible. “You mean, he’s picking you up?”

“See you later Skye.” Brooklyn hung up before she could say anything more incriminating, though the action itself was probably far worse than any denials her mind conjured. She knew everything would be misconstrued if it got out Parker knew where she lived, and it wouldn’t be long before Brooklyn became the latest gossip. The death glares were bad enough as it was, but the public humiliation of being associated romantically with Parker Allenton sent shivers down Brooklyn’s spine.

“Why am I so dumb,” Brooklyn threw herself onto the bed, and Sokka quickly bounded up after her. The dog shrugged and shoved his head into Brooklyn’s hand, insisting he receive scratches for his expert and sage answer. Brooklyn paid in full, giving Sokka all the scratches and tummy rubs he could want until he suddenly sat up in bed and bolted from the room seconds before there was a knock at the front door.

“I got it!” Brooklyn hollered into the air and followed her all knowing dog to the front stairs. Sokka possessed a sixth sense regarding visitors. He sensed their arrival long before they actually made it to the Pieper residence and would often sit by the door waiting to guide them through the house. That is exactly where Brooklyn found him when she descended the stairs and reached the front door, his tail spinning like helicopter propellers behind him, and a dopey, yet adorable smile on his face.

“Weirdo.”

A muffled voice came from the other side of the door, “You talking to me or the dog?”

“You, obviously.” Brooklyn was greeted by crisp mountain air and a very casual looking Parker Allenton as she swung the door open. “Come in. I just have to grab my shoes and jacket. Do I need boots for this adventure? Or skates?”

“I promise, no hockey today. Just wear whatever makes you comfortable.” Parker followed Brooklyn into the entryway, closing the door and immediately giving his attention to Sokka. “Did you miss me Sokka? Yes you did.”

“I don’t understand why he likes you so much,” Brooklyn scanned her boot and coat collection, debating between comfort, cuteness and practicality.

“Because he’s smart.” Parker ruffled Sokka’s fur just behind his ears, and Brooklyn say the dog drool in ecstasy. “Is your dad here?”

“Yeah,” Brooklyn laced up her left boot, then the right, carefully looping the strings so they stayed perfectly even. “He’s sleeping. Got in late last night after a case.” “Brookie? Is that you?”

On cue, Brooklyn’s dad emerged around the corner, though he looked nothing like himself. Sam was the picture of put together in the mornings with strangely well styled hair for a forty-plus year old man, and his eyes were shockingly clear, like the mountain lakes in Glacier. That wasn’t the Sam Pieper standing in the kitchen. His hair was tousled in every direction, more so than the average morning bed head, and his eyes were clouded by exhaustion and worry. Then there was the issue of his beard. Sam usually had a little stubble, but Brooklyn realized for the first time in weeks he looked like a full mountain man with the beard to boot.

“Hey dad,” Brooklyn sheepishly responded, and for a moment she forgot about Parker. Well, almost.

“This is Parker,” Brooklyn quickly recovered, motioning toward the boy still standing in the front doorway. “My psychology lab partner. Parker, this is my dad, Sam Pieper.”

“It’s an honor to meet you Mr. Pieper.” With no fear, Parker reached his right hand in Sam’s direction, shocking Brooklyn and her father. “Brooklyn has told me a lot about you.”

“Call me Sam.” Sam shared a quick glance and smile with Brooklyn before taking Parker’s hand for a quick shake. “It’s nice to finally meet you. You’re a very popular dinner conversation around here.”

“Dad!” Brooklyn whirled around and scolded her father, afraid Parker might notice her cheeks matched the color of her mitten, which were blood red. Her father didn’t need to inflate Parker’s ego. It might make a whole day with him completely insufferable.

“Well, I’ll make sure she gets home by dinner tonight then.” Brooklyn spun around again, looking away from the father she barely recognized to a boy she swore she’d never met before. Parker Allenton passed up the opportunity to subtly make fun of her, something he rarely, if ever, did, and it was almost unsettling.

“Just so long as she gets home.” Just as Brooklyn was processing the new, well-behaved Parker, her father pulled her in for a hug and kissed her on the forehead. “I’m on call tonight, so I’ll make sure there’s some food in the fridge. For both of you.”

“I wouldn’t want to impose sir.”

“Then consider it a thank you.” Brooklyn could barely handle this bizarre conversation. Parker being polite. Sam not doing the intimidating father routine he’d done with her past boyfriends. It was too much to handle at nine in the morning. “For putting up with my daughter and giving her rides.”

Brooklyn’s mouth fell open, but she was still unprepared for what happened next.

“Honestly sir, it’s no problem at all. I’ll take any excuse to hang out with Brooklyn more.” A sincere smile spread across Parker’s face before he broke eye contact with Sam and moved over to Brooklyn. “We should get going Brooklyn.”

“Yeah, um, right.” Brooklyn shook herself out of a daze, convinced she was in some sort of dream world, and quickly hugged her dad. “See you tonight, dad?”

“I’ll try my best.” Sam planted one last kiss on the top of Brooklyn’s head and gave her a quick squeeze. Unlike her classmates, Brooklyn wasn’t embarrassed by her dad, at least not when he hugged her in front of classmates or friends. There seemed to be something extra in the hug though, some sort of extra message her dad was trying to convey. “I love you Brookie.”

“Love you too dad.” With one last hug, Brooklyn said bye to Sam and followed Parker out the door into whatever bizarre Saturday he had planned. Her concerns about ice skating and spending a day with Parker evaporated, though, and were replaced by Brooklyn’s conversation with her dad. The whole exchange lingered in her mind as she tried to decipher Sam’s words and behavior. Usually in the winter, Sam would drop Brooklyn off at school in the morning and be the first dad in line to pick her up when everything was over. He had a regular eight to five job because no tourist would dare visit Rocky Mountain National Park in the dead of winter. Only enthusiasts and the occasional photographer.

But Brooklyn barely saw her dad anymore. He was the busiest he’d ever been, at least in Brooklyn’s lifetime, when it was the lowest time for the national park. It just didn’t make sense.

“You doing ok over there?”

“Huh?” Brooklyn pulled herself out of her thoughts and was mortified to see almost a full five minutes passed since they got in the car. She was so lost in thought. Brooklyn didn’t even notice Parker started driving toward their destination. Hell, he could have been talking to her the whole time, and Brooklyn had no idea. “Yeah. Fine. Sorry. Just lost in thought I guess.”

Parker gave Brooklyn a sideways glance but kept his eyes mostly on the road, “Penny for your thoughts?”

“Why weren’t you in school Thursday and Friday?” The question slipped out before Brooklyn could really process what she was saying. It was the furthest thought from her mind, but somehow, it seemed the easiest one to ask. At least, it was easier for Brooklyn to talk about than her dad’s weird schedule.

“Oh, did you miss me Pieper?”

“No,” Brooklyn realized her tone sounded far more defensive than she wanted, but she was slightly relieved to see the old Parker back. “It’s just, you know, we do this thing called lab on Thursdays, and it’s kinda hard to do lab without a lab partner.”

A flash of shame flashed through Parker’s eyes as he hung his head, “I’m sorry Brooklyn. I had a recruit visit in Colorado Springs. Smithers was supposed to tell you.”

“A recruit visit?” Brooklyn raised her eyebrow and tilted her head to look at Parker, “I thought you were going to Denver?”

“Well I am,” Parker responded with a sly grin. “But only people who read hockey magazines and Sports Illustrated think that.”

Brooklyn’s face burned red for the second time that day. Her dad was a native Minnesotan and taught her to skate the minute she could walk. Brooklyn loved the sport. It was the thing she and her dad shared, and Brooklyn hated there was nowhere to really play growing up in Wyoming. But Parker couldn’t know that. No one at Estes Park High could, lest she be wrapped in with the Puck Bunnies crowd.

“CC was hosting Denver,” Parker continued when Brooklyn didn’t answer. “It was an overnight visit Thursday into Friday. I got experience the best of both worlds.”

“Home weekend at Colorado, and a road weekend with Denver?”

“Yep.” Parker looked over at Brooklyn with admiration, “You know, I did not peg you for a hockey girl Pieper.”

“There’s a lot about me you don’t know,” Brooklyn bristled slightly when Parker called her by her last name. “Also why do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Call me by my last name.” Brooklyn outright said it, finally letting the annoyance get to her. “Is it, like, when you call Skye by the wrong name?”

A bark of laughter rang through the car, “ Skye brought that upon herself. When we were in fourth grade, she insisted on calling everyone by their full name even if they didn’t have a full name.”

“What do you mean?”

“Like Abby was Abigail. Lizzy was Elizabeth. We had a classmate whose legal, God given name was Chad, and Skye insisted on calling him Chadwick.”

“That’s annoying,” Brooklyn’s nose crinkled in disgust. She hated when people called her Brooke or shortened her name in any way, minus her dad.

“It is. But no one could get through to her. When teachers told her to stop because it wasn’t nice, she kept doing it. She was an instigator, so I started calling her Skylar.”

“That couldn’t have gone over well.”

“It didn’t.” Parker’s smile and eyes were somewhere far away from that Colorado road, lost in a memory from better, happier times. “She hated it, which is how she finally figured out it’s not nice to call someone names, even if it actually is their name. Now I do it to annoy her.” The happiness faded from Parker’s face as he returned to the present. It was already hard to believe Parker Allenton and Skye Chernoa were friends, but Brooklyn struggled to put this memory together. It was easy enough to imagine miniature versions of Parker and Skye, the ten year old versions of their current selves. It was hard, though, to imagine them together as inseparable friends.

“What happened between you too?”

“Hell if I know,” Parker answered as he turned the car into town. “One day we were friends, and the next Skye hated me. No idea why.”

Parker’s statement seemed sincere, at least to Brooklyn. He truly had no idea why Skye hated him, and to be honest, neither did Brooklyn. Sure, Parker was a hot head and a cocky jock at school, but outside those walls, he was a different personal almost. At least, it seemed that way to Brooklyn.

“Anyway the last name thing,” Parker brought the vehicle to a stop at a stoplight and turned to Brooklyn. “It’s not an insult. It’s a sign of respect. It means you’re my teammate, and I’ve got your back.”

“What?” Brooklyn was confused by both Parker’s sudden subject change and his answer. In fact, she sort of forgot she asked the question all together.

“It’s a hockey thing.” The light turned green and Parker eased the car forward. “We call each other by our last names. Usually, we chop off some letters and add a ‘zy’ or just a ‘y’ at the end. Like Renzy. Bracky. Molez.”

Brooklyn wanted to smack herself on the head but refrained. All this time she thought Parker was trying to make fun of her. Throw some subtle jab in her direction, but instead, he was trying to show her respect in his own, weird hockey way.

“So what are you? Alleny? Parkzy?”

Parker chuckled, “Just Parker. Or Allenton. Sometimes Parks. Depends on the day.”

Brooklyn nodded and the car fell silent for a moment as they pulled into the community center parking lot. For a moment, Brooklyn felt betrayed. She knew Parker would take her skating on his off day, probably to try and embarrass her. For two seconds, she actually believed Parker might be a good guy or at least better than his hockey star persona.

“I thought you said we weren’t skating.” Brooklyn protested as Parker pulled into a parking spot, putting extra whine in her voice. Now, she’d have to wear the shitty rental skates which never actually fit and are never sharp.

“Look where we’re parked, Brookie.”

Brooklyn looked out the window and noticed Parker parked outside the public library. The community skating rink was basically on the other side of the complex with its own parking lot and everything. Even if he was pure evil, Parker wouldn’t park on the opposite of the community center and walk all the way to the ice rink. It simply didn’t make sense.

Sheepish, Brooklyn threw herself out of the car, “Only my dad calls me Brookie.” “And now me.” Parker winked at Brooklyn, “You need a new nickname anyway.”

Parker slammed his car door and immediately started walking toward the library. Brooklyn followed, not wanting to be left behind in her confusion.

“Here’s the deal. You can call me Brookie, but only in private. Not in public. Agreed.”

“I’ll take it.” Parker flashed Brooklyn a dazzling smile, the one that makes most normal girls swoon, and held open the library door. “After you, m’lady.”

“Thank you,” Brooklyn walked through the door with a polite nod into the Estes Park Community Public Library. It was a glorified cabin, complete with book nooks and a giant fireplace at the center of it all. It was heaven for a bookworm, and it was as close as anything would get to Brooklyn’s dream home. A cabin and mountains was all she needed to be truly happy and a book or two to help pass the time.

“So,” Brooklyn started as her hand absentmindedly ran over a stack of nearby books. “You gonna tell me what we’re doing at the library on a Saturday?”

Before Parker could answer, Mrs. Douley sprang out from around the shelf, a foreign smile on her face. Startled by her sudden appearance, Brooklyn stepped right back into Parker’s chest with a small cry.

“Oh I’m so sorry Brooklyn,” Mrs. Douley fully emerged from the behind the bookshelf, a stack of children’s books in her hands. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“Oh no worries.” Brooklyn was more taken aback by Parker’s firm chest and Mrs. Douley’s presence. She knew the librarian was technically on loan to the high school and had been for almost 20 years. Patricia Douley was actually the director of the Estes Park Community Public Library and all its community outreach programs, including its partnership with the high school.

“I’m just so excited you could both make it today.” A sparkle glittered in Mrs. Douley’s eye, and it had nothing to do with her sequined sweater or half moon glasses. It was the spark of passion which was only possessed by someone who truly loved their job and their work. Brooklyn used to see it in her dad’s eye, but it was much less prevalent since the new year. “So are the kids.”

“Kids.” Brooklyn’s head swiveled frantically from Mrs. Douley to Parker. “What do you mean kids?”

“With the morning reading program.” Mrs. Douley looked from Brooklyn to Parker, “Surely Parker mentioned that.”

“No he did not.” Brooklyn glared over at Parker, a sarcastic smile on her face.

“I was getting around to it,” Parker responded sheepishly, his hand automatically reaching for the back of his neck.”I volunteer with the program in the summer and whenever I have a free weekend during the season.” “Yes, and the kids are very excited to see you. I’ll take you back now.”

Mrs. Douley turned and scurried off towards the back of the library, leaving Brooklyn and Parker in her wake. For a moment the two teenagers stood in the foyer, locked in an awkward staring contest. It was nothing like their first encounter in psychology where it was a battle of wits. This one was entirely Brooklyn’s shock and furry against Parker’s temporary fear.

“Kids? As in children?” Though she was whispering, Brooklyn felt like her voice echoed off the library bookshelves. “Parker Allenton explain yourself now!”

“I was going to tell you. I swear. Right before Mrs. Douley popped out from behind the damn bookshelf.”

Brooklyn and Parker started the slow walk through the library, following Mrs. Douley at a very careful distance so as not to be heard. “There was an entire drive!”

“Yeah, well someone decided to talk about other subjects.” Parker’s whisper was rough but didn’t echo nearly as much as Brooklyn’s. “Besides, it’s not too bad. We just have to read the kids a few stories and do some activities with them.”

“Not too bad?” Brooklyn flew in front of Parker, blocking his path down the ally of books. “Parker, I’m horrible with kids. There’s a reason I work with the intermediate classes at Adventure. Kids don’t like me.”

Parker stopped and gently put his hands on Brooklyn’s shoulders. She braced herself, waiting for a taunt or some sort of snide joke at her expense, but it never came. Instead, Brooklyn was greeted by a Parker she barely even recognized. A boy who was sincere and understood her discomfort, “Do you remember what it was like to be a seven year old? Brooklyn nodded, her mind flashing back to the first time she and her dad moved. Seven was the age her dad was transferred from the Grand Canyon to Grand Tetons. It wasn’t all bad. She was still young, still naive, still sure she could make new friends at a new school, but it wasn’t always easy. Especially without a mom.

“Do you remember how you wanted to be treated? By other kids and adults?”

Again, Brooklyn nodded. She was unable to speak. Memories and emotions flooded her mind, most of them long buried and forgotten for good reason.

Parker smiled, “Then you’ll be fine. Just treat the kids how you wanted to be treated at their age, and you’ll have no problem.”

With a gentle squeeze, Parker dropped his hands from Brooklyn’s shoulders and followed the scent of Mrs. Douley’s perfume back into the library. Brooklyn followed and immediately started overanalyzing the situation, as she always did when kids were involved. It was like they possessed some sort of sixth sense, like a pack of hungry lionesses hyped up on sugar. Plus, kids never listened, at least not the ones who attended Brooklyn’s rock climbing classes at Adventure Endeavors.

“I brought some special guests with me for class today from the high school,” Mrs. Douley’s voice broke through Brooklyn’s spiraling thoughts, shaking her out of the reprieve. “Should we ask them to come in?”

A chorus of high pitch voices shouted yes, clearly excited about the possibility of older kids teaching class for the day. Actually, Brooklyn realized they were really excited about one older kid in particular: Parker Allenton. The minute he walked through the door, twelve miniature humans all bolted from their spots on the floor and ran for him, as though in a race to see who could reach the prize first.

“Mr. Parker!” Their unison chorus continued, as the kids all seemed to reach the same level of pitch. Brooklyn noticed one boy in particular lingered in his spot, happy to hang back while his classmates attacked their favorite teacher.

Sensing a kindred spirit, Brooklyn moved from the shadows to talk to the boy, or at least hang out by him so he didn’t feel so alone. Her movements were natural and subtle, but apparently not subtle enough. As soon as she stepped out of Parker’s shadow, a girl with twin braids snapped her head in Brooklyn’s direction, her voice nearly as high and snooty as her punctured nose.

“And who are you?”

Twelve synchronized heads snapped in Brooklyn’s direction, making her feel like an intruder. Like always, Brooklyn felt like she was somehow encroaching on Parker’s sacred territory and wanted nothing more than to shrink out of this particular limelight. It was his show after all, and she truly wasn’t sure why she was there.

“This is my friend Brooklyn,” Parker saved Brooklyn with a quick response, and for once, she was grateful. “She’s going to help out with me today.”

“Is she your girlfriend?” One girl piped up from the back of the group, and everyone immediately fell silent. Some of the kids cringed at the thought of cooties, but Braids stayed still, staring at Brooklyn and sizing her up to see if she was a formidable opponent.

“Actually, I’m his bodyguard.” With bizarre improvisation skills Brooklyn rarely possessed, she walked over to Parker and lifted his shirt, revealing a green-purple bruise Parker suffered during a game the weekend before. “He’s fragile.”

The class crept closer to Brooklyn, jostling for position to see Parker’s bruising. At least, Brooklyn hoped that’s what they were looking at. It would be weird if they were checking out his abs, which she might have done immediately following her little impromptu display.

“Alright boys and girls, that’s enough.” Mrs. Douley gave Brooklyn a sideways glance while herding the children back to their places. Brooklyn shrugged in apology while Parker held back a snicker. “Today, we’re going to learn about the national parks. Half of you will start with Mr. Parker, and the other half will go with Miss. Brooklyn. Then, we’ll switch.”

Panic seized Brooklyn’s mind as the kids were split up into two groups. She was confident she could teach any person, big or small, about the United States National Parks Service. She was practically a certified genius since her dad was a Park Ranger and all, but Brooklyn wasn’t so confident in her teaching abilities alone. Without Parker specifically. With him, Brooklyn knew she could tackle six to eight kids easily, but without, she sensed an imminent attack. She felt like a stalked animal, standing there and eventually leading a hoard of children to a back corner of the room.

“I can’t believe we’re stuck with her first.” Braids was regretfully assigned to Brooklyn’s group first, and it took all her power to hold back equally snarky remarks. “I mean, what does she even know about the national parks?”

“Actually, I’ve lived in five.” Brooklyn stopped the group at a set of three tables and turned to face the awed group. “Glacier, Grand Canyon, Grand Teton, Yellowstone and Rocky Mountain.”

It was smooth sailing from that point on. The class flew by in a blur as the kids peppered Brooklyn with questions about everything and anything involving, mostly, animals. What does bear poop smell like? Do elk antlers get so heavy, they fall over on their heads like this (with a demonstration)? Do wolves eat people? Will you die if you sleep outside in the winter? For the first time in her life, Brooklyn felt comfortable around kids. No, teaching wasn’t her life’s work or calling, but at least they weren’t swarming her like a pack of hyenas waiting to strike. Even Braids, whose real name was Lacy, warmed up to Brooklyn, though it took practically the whole class.

“The kids really seemed to enjoy today,” Mrs. Douley commented as she and Brooklyn packed up her work station. Though Brooklyn’s second group was fun, they didn’t exactly excel at cleaning up, leaving abandoned markers, crayons and pencils in their wake. “You were quick on your feet with the bodyguard comment.”

Brooklyn smiled as she neatly packed away a box of thin markers, “Thanks. I was pretty nervous. I’m not really great with kids.”

“Well, you looked like a natural today,” Mrs. Douley looked at Brooklyn with a knowing smile before nodding in the opposite direction of the room. “Though not quite to Parker’s level yet, I’m afraid. You’ll get there though. He was like you once too, you know. Nervous, like a jumpy little tad poll.”

Brooklyn followed the librarian’s gaze, finding it hard to believe Parker was nervous about anything. He was still at his workstation from earlier, completely at ease as he talked to one of the kids from class. Somehow, Parker managed to fit his large, muscular hockey body into one of the toddler chairs, but he seemed comfortable, relaxed even, compared to his actual persona at school.

It wasn’t necessarily Parker’s affinity for teaching, though, that caught Brooklyn’s eye. Instead it was the boy he was with, the same boy who hung back earlier in the day when Parker first walked in the room. His mop of brown hair covered most of his facial features, but Brooklyn was sure it was him.

“The boy.”

“I’m sorry dear.” Mrs. Douley joined Brooklyn in her corner of the room, a quizzical look draped across her face.

“The boy,” Brooklyn repeated, suddenly unsure of his name. She realized the boy didn’t utter a single word in the forty-five minutes she worked with him. He sat in the back of the group, quietly working on his project, which was to draw or write a story about the origin of a national park. Brooklyn thought it might be too abstract, but the kids came up with some pretty unique, if not insane, ideas, but the boy, she realized, never shared his. He barely looked up from his hands, “Who is he?”

A realization crossed Mrs. Douley’s face, “Oh that’s Riley. Riley Chrisman. He doesn’t really say much. I’m sure he didn’t tell you his name.”

“No,” Brooklyn looked at the two boys on the other side of the room. The young boy dwarfed in Parker’s shadow, but even he seemed relaxed compared to his earlier demeanor. “Wait, Chrisman as in Ms. Chrisman? The English teacher at Estes High?”

Mrs. Douley nodded, “The very same.”

“But,” Brooklyn did the math in her head. Miss. Chrisman was in her mid twenties and never wore a ring to school. She wasn’t married, as far as Brooklyn was aware, and Skye always made her out as a bitch. To Brooklyn’s knowledge, Miss. Chrisman didn’t seem like the mothering type or the type of woman to have a kid in her teens, but there was Riley. “How?”

Mrs. Douley laughed. Not a chuckle either. A real hearty laugh that indicated a life well lived.

“Riley is adopted.” The librarian saw Brooklyn’s confused face, and her face quickly fell back into its solemn placeholder. “It’s a sad story really. Two summers ago, Riley’s dad dropped him off for the summer reading program and didn’t pick him up. Rachel took him home that night. She helps with the reading program in the summer and offered to take care of Riley until his dad came back.”

“Only dad never came back.”

“No.” Brooklyn swore a single tear escaped Mrs. Douley’s eye, but she pressed on with the story. “Every day, Riley would wait on that bench, but his dad never came back. We reported it to the police and everything, but they never found him, and Riley was set to become a ward of the state.”

“A foster kid?”

“Rachel couldn’t let that happen. Riley lived with her the whole summer while they looked for his dad, and she couldn’t let him go into the system. So, first, she registered to become a foster parent, and then adopted Riley a few months later.”

Brooklyn looked back over at the two boys. Miss. Chrisman wasn't Brooklyn's teacher, at least not yet. She only taught juniors and seniors, but Skye made her class sound like living hell. It drastically contrasted the story Mrs. Douley just told of a kind young woman who just wanted to give a boy his best shot at life.

“So what’s his connection to Parker?”

“Riley didn’t speak for almost a year. He would come to the library with Rachel on weekends and just sit in the back of the classes, staring out the window. Then, Parker came along. His hockey team did a peer helper thing with the local elementary schools. He would sit back by Riley in class and somehow figured out the boy liked hockey. One day, Parker brought Riley a trading card, Gretzky or something like that. Riley spoke for the first time to Rachel that night.”

Brooklyn’s eyes threatened to fly out of her head, but she remained silent, waiting to hear the rest of Mrs. Douley’s story.

“They’re the best of friends,” the old woman eventually continued, looking more withered and worn somehow than at the beginning of the story. “Riley goes to as many of Parker’s games as he can, and Parker hangs out with him when his school and practice schedule allows.”

“I,” Brooklyn started but realized she couldn’t finish. She didn't know what to say. This Parker, the boy teaching a shy second grader how to read, was completely different from the hockey star who roamed the halls of Estes Park High. It was like Brooklyn was experiencing two completely different people. The Parker everyone knew and expected to find, and the Parker behind closed doors where only a select few were given credentials.

“A word of advice, if I may.” The twinkle returned to Mrs. Douley’s eye when Brooklyn looked over, only this time, it was the twinkle of passion ignited. Instead, it was the twinkle of wisdom, the kind Santa Claus and other worldly elders possessed. “I know you have no issues speaking your mind Brooklyn. You’re a very strong and kind woman, but I think it’s time for you to stop basing your judgements on other people’s opinions and rather on your own observations.”

The door clicked open, and Brooklyn watched as Miss. Chrisman walked in to collect her son. At the sight of his mother, Riley smiled, rose from his chair, and reached his arms around Parker’s neck, wrapping the hockey star in a hug. The sight was surreal, and Brooklyn never would have believed it was real if she wasn’t seeing it with her own two eyes.

“What if I see two different things,” she asked meekly. “What if my observations conflict?”

Before Mrs. Douley could answer, a light pressure tugged at the hem of Brooklyn’s jacket. She looked down to see Riley standing a few feet away, his head shyly tucked as far into his jacket as it was allowed. Instinctively, Brooklyn crouched down to be on his level and waited for him to speak.

“Miss. Brooklyn, are you really Parker’s bodyguard?”

The boy's voice was quiet but strong, and Brooklyn sensed a small stutter at the end of his sentence.

“Kinda yeah,” Brooklyn smiled, not wanting to admit she wasn’t actually a real life bodyguard. Somehow, she didn’t want to let Riley down, and she was a bodyguard in a sense when it came to Parker’s psych homework.

“Make sure you keep him safe, ok?” Riley looked up at Brooklyn with the innocent blue eyes of a fawn. “He’s my best friend, and I don’t want him to get hurt.”

Brooklyn’s green eyes found Riley’s blue ones, “I promise I’ll do my best. I can’t play hockey with him though. He’s a little better at skating than me.”

A smile broke out on Riley’s face. Without warning, he sprinted over and hugged Brooklyn, and strangely enough, she returned it.

“It was very nice to meet you Miss. Brooklyn. I hope you come to class again.”

With that, Riley broke the hug and rushed over to his mom. Brooklyn stood from the ground, wiping a few stray tears from her face. Even if she wasn’t Parker’s actual bodyguard, she would do everything to keep that promise, to keep Parker safe, for as long as she lived. No matter how much Brooklyn couldn’t stand him, she couldn’t let Riley down.

“When your eyes get confused Brooklyn, follow your gut.” Mrs. Douley’s voice echoed through Brooklyn’s being, cementing themselves in a way she wouldn’t understand for years to come. “I promise, it’s much smarter than even your logic.”