“I wanted to circle round and touch base with you regarding the other night,” he said.

I instantly cringed at the “touch base” thing, and I could see he knew he’d chosen the wrong words.

He cleared his throat. “Debrief. I want to debrief.”

I rolled my eyes at these buzzwords he was using. “Okay.”

He looked away, as if he couldn’t hold my gaze. “What happened with your mother the other night . . .” He tapered off and I waited for him to speak.

“Yeees.” I leaned in.

“I would never have considered allowing anything to happen if I’d known that you were her daughter. My priorities are always, always, to my students and their well-being.” He looked up at me and forced a smile. “Nothing is more important than the happiness of my students. And I would never want to do anything to jeopardize that. I always strive to put their needs first, and do whatever I can to help them, and I feel like I failed you, and . . .” He paused, ran his hand through his hair, looking genuinely tormented, and I was thrown. “I’m sorry.”

I stared at him as he fiddled with his fingers, looking so upset by this ordeal that I actually believed what he was saying to me. In his strange way—his strange, sharky, cool beans kind of way—he really cared for the students here at BWH. With his short-handed, clichéd, two cents–worth therapy and big white teeth.

“And I want you to know that it’s over between your mother and me. . . . She’s a remarkable woman, though, your mother,” he said softly. “Very inspiring.” He gave me a small smile and I forced one back at him. “So . . .” He clapped his hands together and I flinched. “Is it forgiven?” he asked.

I nodded. Just because I wanted to get this over and done with. “Sure.”

“Good. Chapter nine in my book is all about forgiveness. Forgiving your enemies, forgiving yourself.”

“I’ll make sure I read it then.” I didn’t mean that, though. I walked out of his office and breathed a sigh of relief, but it was short-lived when I found Jake standing there, waiting for me.

“I heard them call your name over the intercom,” he said. “We haven’t really had a chance to talk since, so . . . can we?”

“Won’t you be missing class?”

“I have a free period now, so it seems we’re both free.”

“Okay.” We walked down the passage, much like we had at the park the other night, which seemed so long ago now. No one said a word, although there were so many words to say. It was as if the whole passage we were walking down was filled with these massive, invisible words that were just waiting to be spoken. And finally Jake did.

“Did I . . . did I screw it all up?” he asked.

I turned and looked at him. “No.”