Catching Fireflies(4)

“But I won’t go out with him,” Misty said with frustration. “I’ve turned him down. Annabelle knows that, too. It’s not my fault if he can’t take no for an answer. It ought to show her what a sleaze he is for being with her and asking me out at the same time.”

“The most popular boy in school,” Katie repeated with emphasis. “Annabelle feels she’s entitled to the best. And since she can’t blame him without losing him, she blames you.”

“I guess,” Misty said with a shrug. “I sure don’t get it, though. I’d have kicked him to the curb the second I found out he was hitting on another girl.”

“Because you’re smart and have it together,” Katie said loyally.

Misty sighed heavily. “If only that were true.”

The truth was that every single day she felt more and more as if her life were falling completely apart and Annabelle Litchfield was at the controls.



After fending off his nurse’s latest attempt to fix him up, pediatrician J. C. Fullerton was pondering the tendency of Serenity residents to meddle in other people’s lives when the door to his office opened a crack.

“Is it okay if I come in?” Misty Dawson asked hesitantly. “Everyone’s gone out front, but the lights were still on and the door was open. I thought you might still be here.”

“Sure. Come on in,” he said, regarding the teen worriedly. This kind of after-hours visit usually spelled trouble. With a sixteen-year-old girl, an unplanned pregnancy came immediately to mind.

“Everything okay?” he asked.

Misty sat gingerly on the edge of the chair across from him, her schoolbooks in her lap. “Not really.” She sucked in a deep breath, then blurted, “Could you write me some kind of note to get out of school?”

Over the years, J.C. had worked hard not to react visibly to anything patients said to him. Teens, especially, had tender feelings and could easily be scared into silence if their physician said the wrong thing. It usually worked best to listen and ask questions very, very carefully.

He studied Misty closely. Other than looking nervous and maybe a little pale, she appeared to be as healthy as she had been when she’d had her annual physical before the school year started. Her straight blond hair was shiny, her bright blue eyes clear. Looks, though, could be deceiving.

“Aren’t you feeling well?” he asked, treading carefully.

“Not really.”

He took the response at face value. “What seems to be the problem? Is something going on at school?”

“I just can’t go anymore, okay?” she said, instantly defensive. “And I know they’ll need some kind of an excuse if I stop showing up. I figured a note from you would work. You could tell ’em I have something really, really contagious, right?”

He held her gaze. “Do you have something really, really contagious?”

“No, but—”

“Then you know I can’t do it,” he said, his tone gentle but firm. “Talk to me, Misty. What’s really going on?”

“I’m not going back, that’s all,” she said stubbornly.

J.C.’s antennae went on full alert. He had seen this kind of thing before, kids who were good students who suddenly didn’t want to go to school. He’d seen it in a way that was up close and way too personal. He was instantly determined to get to the bottom of whatever was on this young girl’s mind.

“Is there a specific reason you don’t want to be in school, Misty?” he prodded gently. “The way I heard it from your mom, you’re an outstanding student, taking all sorts of advanced placement classes.”

She shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. I don’t want to be there anymore.”

“What will you do if you don’t go?” he asked reasonably. “I thought when we did your physical you mentioned something about wanting to be a broadcast journalist someday. You’ll need a high school diploma and college for that. You were all excited about the possibility of a scholarship.”

“Like you said, I’m smart. I’ll take the GED and ace it, then get into college someplace far away from Serenity. It might not be a fancy Ivy League school like I was hoping, but that’s okay. It’s a trade-off, but it’ll be worth it. I can do it,” she said earnestly. “Please, Dr. Fullerton. You’ve got to help me out.”

He leveled a look into her troubled eyes. “You know I can’t do that, Misty. Now, why don’t you tell me what’s really going on? Maybe I can help with that.”

Tears rolled down her cheeks, but she stood up, squared her shoulders and headed for the door, her disappointment unmistakable. “Sorry I bothered you.”