5

The round-faced clock that hung on the wall behind the professor’s head showed that class should have been over ten minutes ago. Nonetheless, the man droned on, making Paul later for work by the minute.

School had been back in session for three weeks, and he missed Hannah so badly he couldn’t sleep at night or concentrate during the day. If a letter would arrive, maybe that would take some of the edge off his misery. Letters from Hannah were always slow in coming, but it’d been weeks since he’d left.

Writing to him was problematic. She had to have time alone to secretly pen him a note. Then she had to get it to his gram’s place so she could mail it without Hannah’s family getting wind of it. Even though he often went up to six weeks without hearing from her, he’d never gotten used to it.

Scribbling notes as quickly as he could, Paul tried not to think about the interview he had coming up this afternoon. He was hoping to land an internship as a caseworker with social services. If he landed this position, he would get enough training so that he could find a job closer to Owl’s Perch after he graduated. If he found a job near Owl’s Perch, he could juggle working for Hannah’s father and for social services.

His boss at the tire store wouldn’t be too thrilled when he arrived late. He’d be even angrier when Paul requested time off during the middle of his shift to go on his interview.

His part-time job at the retail tire store came with long hours and unfriendly co-workers. But it was his own fault. Instead of putting in his job applications in May for the fall, he’d hightailed it to his gram’s place the day school was out so he could see Hannah. And he hadn’t returned to campus until the weekend before classes began. Now he’d spend the entire school year paying the price for his impatience.

Paul sighed and glanced at the clock again. As usual he was half paying attention to the teacher and half missing Hannah. A long-distance relationship was one thing, but no communication other than letters was almost unbearable, especially since it was so long between letters.

A few students slipped out the side door. Paul wanted to follow them, but he needed the details of the next project due for class, and this teacher didn’t pass out info sheets, post assignments on the Web, or write lists on the white board. He gave all pertinent instruction orally, once, as if the students’ presence at the end of class was part of the project itself. Paul drew a ragged breath and began to pack his book bag as he listened to the teacher’s last few recommendations regarding the assignment. As more students slipped out, the professor glanced at his watch and dismissed the class.

Slinging the strap of his backpack over one shoulder, Paul merged into the flow of human traffic. The past month had dispelled any question of how crazy his senior year would be. He wished he’d known four years ago how to plan his required course hours. He should have taken extra classes early on to give himself more time for his most important classes now. He had to graduate this spring.

It would be easier if he could stay in school one extra semester. But he couldn’t do that. He’d promised Hannah they’d be together by summer. Besides, his heart was set on being with her come mid-May. Graduation. What a liberating word. Right now, however, graduation seemed a decade away.

He ran through the corridors, out the main doorway, and across the parking lot. Jerking open the unlocked truck door, he tossed his backpack to the passenger side and dug into his jeans pocket for his keys.

They weren’t there. He tapped the outside of the pockets in his jacket and on the back of his pants.

Couldn’t something go right? One thing? Anything?

He stifled the urge to let an angry scream ring out across the parking lot. Leaning across the bench seat, he grabbed his backpack and searched its array of small pockets. Life had been like this since he’d arrived on campus. Murphy’s Law was working overtime for him, and he wished it would just go to work for somebody else.

Unable to find his keys, Paul climbed into his truck. God, am I off track? Is this not where I’m supposed to be? Or is this just a part of learning patience?

Paul wrapped his fingers around the top of the steering wheel and leaned his forehead against the backs of his hands. Visions of Hannah flooded his thoughts. I miss her so badly, Father. I…I didn’t think it would be this tough. How many times over the past month had he fought the desire to forget school and go be with her?

He lifted his head and squared his shoulders. This was no time to think about quitting school. If life wanted a battle, he’d fight. And he’d win. Because to lose would hurt his and Hannah’s future, and there was no way he was going to allow that to happen. No way on earth.

His stomach grumbled, and suddenly he remembered where his keys were. He jumped out of his truck and ran across the parking lot, back inside the building, to the closest vending machine. He grabbed his keys off the top of the red appliance. All this trouble and he hadn’t even gotten a pack of crackers from the antiquated junk-food source. It wouldn’t take his crumpled dollar, and he had no change.

Running back across the parking lot, Paul was glad his job was only a few minutes away.

Soon he pulled into the parking lot of the tire store and ran inside.

“Waddell.”

Paul stopped midstride. There was no denying that crotchety, booming voice bellowing out his last name as if it were a curse word. He turned. “Sir?”

“You’re late. Again.” Kyle Brown’s face turned a deeper shade of purple than normal.

“Yes sir. I’m sorry. Class was—”

“Give it a rest, Waddell. I don’t care what was going on at that place you call a learning institute. Seems to me you college boys can’t even tell time.”

Paul hated this place. But life was expensive. “I’ll come in early and stay late on Saturday to make up for it.”

“You better believe you will.” The man wiped his hands on a filthy rag and shoved it back into his pocket. “But that don’t change the fact that the guys in the pit can’t begin lunch shifts until there’s a fourth person here. Three men’ve been waiting on you so somebody can go eat.” He glanced at his watch. “At two thirty in the afternoon.”

“I’m sorry, sir.”

Mr. Brown clapped his hands. “Well, what are you waitin’ for? Get to work.”

“Yes, I’ll do that, sir. But first…I need to tell you that I have to be somewhere at four. I told Mr. Banks about it when—”

“Well, Mr. Banks ain’t runnin’ this department. I am. If you leave before the last customer is taken care of, don’t bother coming back. We’ll mail you your check along with an ‘adios, amigo’ card.”

Paul nodded. He’d explained his scheduling issues to Mr. Banks. The owner had assured him it could all be worked out. But obviously Kyle Brown didn’t care what his boss had agreed to.

If Paul got this internship, he’d be doing his dream job with child services part-time during the week, but he could work here on days he wasn’t a caseworker and all day on Saturdays. Jobs with decent hours that didn’t make him work on Sundays were hard to come by. He had to keep this one.