The Return

Chapter Three

Thursday April 13th 2021.

At the closed hardwood door, she knocked twice before letting herself in. The door opened with a squeak.

He looked up at her from behind his desk.

A resounding member of the overly-curious-neighbor committee was Principal Jenkins.

Notorious for weekend barbeques and hosting seasonal parties no one asked for, he was a large barrel-chested man with bright blue eyes and grey streaks in his once blonde hair. He had a condo twenty minutes away.

In a loosely fitted suit, he wore a tight smile.

At least one of them looked bright and chirpy. Holly couldn't say the same. With a hoodie, sweats, and a pair of sneakers, Holly wasn't ready for the day, not that she had a choice.

He leaped to his feet; a hand outstretched. "Miss. Steinfeld, good to see you again," She took his hand in hers for a firm shake. He smoothed out his suit. "Your sister hasn't stopped talking about your return."

Hmm...

It didn't seem like Heaven to find her way to Lincoln Lane Prep's principal's office to discuss the return of her estranged sister.

Vaughn. He was the kind of person to let it slip over a sizzling grill in a neighbor's backyard. The blabbermouth probably told the entire neighborhood.

So much for blending in.

"Is that all she had to say?" Holly tilted her head, slightly, and took in his crooked nose. Cries of a past riddled with one too many blows to the money-maker.

Holly imagined her first morning back would feel like waterboarding. Mind-numbing. Excruciating.

He gestured for her to take a seat.

She took up one of the chairs by his desk.

He sat back down and reached for a file from the stack by his 'Principal of the year' mug.

"We have been made aware of your situation at home," He cleared his throat.

She huffed.

Or maybe, her first morning back was like a finger trap. The more she struggled to get out of it, the harder it was. Maybe if she let herself ease back into the boring plastic chair; it would pass by like a bad dream.

"I find that hard to believe,"

The thing about trying to move on with her life—as if her parents didn't take a sledgehammer and shatter it and hand her the pieces to tape together in time to plan their wedding—was she couldn't afford to think too hard. To peer too closely at the shards.

She wasn't taking it well.

In fact, she missed out on an opportunity to joke about how she would rather be stabbed in the eye than be stuck playing the role of Georgia's maid of honor.

It was good.

She was making progress. Dr. Williams would be proud of her for not taking the bait.

She didn't let herself think about whether they were making a mistake. Moving too fast. Her job was to be the goddamn glue that put them together.

Okay, maybe once in a while, she stopped to think.

Were they even sure they had a connection anymore? Because she didn't feel it. The union of two parents working as one. They were fine. Fine wasn't renewing their vows and professing undying love as if they hadn't dug their marriage from the grave.