The Sleuth Will Set You Free - A Gallagher Girls Story

Chapter Twelve

I just about missed the last step of the staircase.  "Whoa there, Goode," said a smooth voice, catching my arm before I could fall flat on my face.  "Careful now.  You're just starting to heal up.  Can't have my Junior Captain re-injuring herself when she's so close to getting off the bench."

Look.  I know that having a crush on a teacher is supposed to be weird or whatever, which is why I totally don't have a crush on Mr. Hughes.  I'm just saying that if I had a few more years on me, then he'd be a potential crush.  There was really no question about it.  I mean, have you seen the man in a suit and tie?  Let's be real here.  Blake Hughes was the Hot Teacher.

But he was more than that.  Sure, he had started off as the piano-playing hottie in Blackthorne's rec room, but even then, he had spotted me in the crowd.  Taught me something I didn't know.  Hughes wasn't just another teacher.  He had become a mentor.  Someone who listened and smiled and didn't just believe me, but also believed in me.

There was never a time when he made me feel bad—never a time when I felt weak around him.  For weeks, I had been asking for a moment alone, but I knew that I didn't want to pass up my time with him.  I knew that if we spoke, I'd walk away feeling stronger, and I was in no position to deny myself that feeling.  "Hi," I said.

He grinned back at me and the whole world seemed to light up.  I could feel my insides shifting—could feel a punch to my gut as those eyes looked at me.  I could feel.  I wasn't numb anymore.  "Hello, Virgo," he said.  "Care for a dance?  I figure I should ask you now, before there's a line."

Somehow, some way, a giggle slipped past my lips and I felt my face turn hot.  Like I said, no crush, but definite potential.  A man as charming as he was had a talent for that sort of thing.  For making people adore him.  I was no exception.

He led me onto the dance floor, a quintet leading us on.  I searched for Alice, hoping to catch a glimpse of her secret boyfriend, but all I found was a disgruntled Roy Ross who had been forced into dancing with Madame Baudin.

I took a sharp breath in as I felt a hand fall into mine.  Each time I blinked, I expected to wake up and find Mr. Hughes in a headlock, but to my relief, time stayed constant.  There were no blackouts.  Just Mr. Hughes, watching me ever so carefully.  "Everything okay?"

I re-asked the question to myself, going through my mental checklist of sanity.  My limbs.  My head.  My blazing shoulder.  Check, check, check.  For a moment, I almost felt normal and so I nodded, letting him know that, for the first time in a very long time, I really was fine.

His hand graced my back, just below the forming scar.  My heart started to beat too fast, but then I let my breath go, reminding myself that this was Mr. Hughes.  Not Will.  Will would never hold me again.

"We miss you, you know," Hughes said with a step, reminding me of where I was, settling the panic that danced along each of my nerves.  "In the Gathering.  It isn't quite the same without you."

My heart started beating faster again, this time for entirely different reasons.  Me.  They needed me—wanted me.  I was significant.  I was important.

My eyes flicked to my father, standing on the other side of the ballroom.  His attention hadn't left me since I had entered, but I knew that it wasn't my importance that kept him so fixated.  It was the worry.  The idea that I would combust at any minute.  "I'd love to come back," I told Hughes.  "But I've got a 24-hour protection detail and no ride."

He clicked his tongue.  "Shame," he said.  "We could really use you.  Charles Baskey is getting a little big for his britches.  The other day he tried to tell Daniel Tripp that his mile wasn't fast enough."