Chapter 35: Under the Canopy

[Lily]

If you were to ask me before today if a man like Atticus Preston could cry, I would have told you it was impossible. Because crying would mean you can feel something profound enough to hurt you. To have the ability to feel so deeply means you have a heart.

Atticus Preston the bully has no heart. He is all smiles and flirting and cruel manipulation. He doesn’t have the depth of emotion for true pain.

But this person crying in my arms--he is not the bully, he is someone else.

I’m not sure when I started singing, but as I pet his hair, a melody that my mother used to sing bubbled forth from the depths of my memory. After several minutes, Atticus’ breathing calmed, his sobs slowly ceasing.

Taking a deep breath, he rises to his feet and extends his hand. “Walk with me.”

"I'm not very good at walking," I look down at my leg.

His smile is fragile, his eyes and cheeks red from crying. "That's okay, you can lean on me."

With my arm around his shoulder, we slowly wander into the wood