“What?” Danny looked around in a panic.

Mr. Crenshaw was gone from his spot on the steps, but taking a wider look, Danny spied the counselor. He was strolling toward them from the teachers’ parking lot like everything was just fine.

Mr. Trufant followed the direction of Danny’s eyes and his mouth fell open in disbelief. He clumped down the steps. “Bob, what in the world are you doing out here?”

Mr. Crenshaw had a bright red apple in his hand. He tossed it in the air, caught it, and took a crunchy bite. “I was getting an apple from my car.”

The principal puffed up, still scowling. “I see that. I mean what are you doing out here with Danny? I look out my office window and I see a student, missing from the building, unsupervised . . .”

Mr. Crenshaw didn’t hurry nor did he speak until he stood directly in front of his boss. “Nature therapy.”

“Nature what?”

“Therapy, nature therapy. Some people call it a derivative of transcendentalism, but it’s very current.” Mr. C turned to Danny. “Feeling better?”

“Uh, yes, sir.”

“How about that?” Mr. Crenshaw snapped his fingers in the air as he breathed in deep. “Fresh air. The shade of a tree. Filtered sunshine.”

“We have rules, Mr. Crenshaw,” the principal growled. “Like no one leaves the building without signing out.”

“Ah, Section 27(b)3 in the handbook, right? I could have sworn that said no one is to leave school grounds during the school day without signing out.”

“No, it says ‘the building.’”

“Are you sure? 27(b)3?”

“I have no idea the number. I know the rules.” The principal pointed to his own chest.

Mr. Crenshaw scratched his head and muttered, “I thought I did too, but apparently not.”

Danny thought the timing was right and he blurted out, “I can play today, right, Mr. Trufant?”

“Yes. Yes, of course.” The principal looked disappointed that he had to go back on his own order, and he jabbed a finger in Mr. Crenshaw’s direction. “But this can’t happen again.”

“No more nature therapy?” Mr. C raised his eyebrows as if that would be a terrible sin.

“Yes, I mean no, not no more, just no more leaving the building without signing out. Understood?” The principal pushed his glasses up on his nose as he had begun to sweat.

“Oh, you scared me for a minute. I don’t know a counselor worth his salt who doesn’t apply a little nature therapy from time to time.”

“You’re not being cute with me, Mr. Crenshaw, are you?” asked Mr. Trufant.

“Not at all.”

“Good, because I take rules very seriously in my building.”

“We are on the same page, sir.”

The principal turned to Danny. “I expect four or five touchdowns from you this afternoon.”

Danny smiled big. “Yes, sir.”

“Good.” Mr. Trufant cleared his throat and glanced up at the second-story windows. “Let’s take this show inside, now. There are people looking at us.”

They followed him inside and separated at Mr. Crenshaw’s office. When the door was closed, Danny thanked Mr. C. “He was gonna suspend me from playing, then he asks for five touchdowns.”

“Sometimes, to do our job, we have to do things we don’t want to do.” Mr. C sat back down behind his desk.

“Like you spending first period with me,” Danny said.

“That’s my job, yes, but I enjoy it.”

“Why?”

Mr. C shrugged. “I like to help people, kids especially. You’re a good kid. I’d like to see you feel better.”

“I feel fine.”

Mr. Crenshaw looked like he was thinking. “Did you feel fine when you dumped the Yahtzee box and ran out of here?”

“That was because . . .” Danny couldn’t remember why he’d done that. He looked at the scattered contents of the game box and began to pick the dice up from the floor. He put the box back on the shelf. When he turned around, the counselor was looking at him, the question still fresh on his face.

Danny looked at the clock. “The bell’s about to ring.”

“Yes. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Aren’t you going to the game?” Danny asked.

“Would you like me to?”

“You could see why everyone is making a fuss over me.”

“So being a good football player is what makes you special?”

Danny snorted. “It’s Texas, right?”

The bell rang and Danny made for the door.

“So, I’ll be impressed?” Mr. Crenshaw asked.

Danny didn’t hesitate. “Yes, sir, you will.”