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store receipts, tampons, and brown leather.
    TGIF— Thank God it’s Friday .
    With both hands, she twisted her shirt and wrung out Diet Coke into the trashcan.
    Why had someone shoved a box in her classroom? Leaning over the box, she tossed back a flap, and a jumble of red, white, and blue Lone Stars merchandise stared back at her. Even when Clint Grayson wasn't here, he made an impression.
    Her hand closed around a red foam finger with Go Stars in white block letters across the front. She tossed it behind her and rummaged through tee shirts, ball-point pens, hats, and key chains until she found one ream of copy paper.
    She shook her head. Clint got points for trying, but when it came down to it, he just didn’t understand what she was doing. Unless foam finger pointing turned out to be a growth industry, it wouldn’t do her much good. While promotional items were great for bank grand openings and car dealerships, they weren’t exactly going to help her students with reading comprehension or life skills. Then again, she had one more ream of paper than she’d had yesterday. Grayson wasn’t a total loss.
    Summer looked down. And she sure could use a clean, dry shirt. After digging around until she found a size L, she unfolded it. It read, I’m Clint Grayson’s #1 Fan . She grabbed an XL and unfolded it.  Livin’ La Vida Lone Star .
    Maybe she could wear the box?
    “Ms. A.” Mario walked into the room. His face lit up as he spotted the stuff she’d pulled out of the box. “What’s all this?”
    He was wearing the same clothes as yesterday, which meant either he hadn’t been home last night, or more than likely, Mario and his five little sisters had spent the night, cold and alone, in the park down the street from their apartment because his dad had been too high to remember he had a family, and Mario’s mom worked nights.
    “Mr. Grayson sent over all this stuff.” Summer shrugged. This was more than she’d thought she’d get out of Grayson.
    “I know.” Mario tried to look nonchalant. “He stopped by after school to apologize, and we ran into each other. The QB’s not all bad. We threw the ball around, he helped me with my throwing stance and footwork, and then he took me out to dinner. We ate some kinda fancy steak thing. It was really good. Dessert was this hot, runny, chocolate lava stuff with vanilla ice cream. I tried to save some for my little sisters…and guess what Mr. Grayson did?”
    “I have no idea.” Summer’s heart melted just like the vanilla ice cream in Mario’s chocolate soufflé. Grayson was a nice guy; how had she missed that?
    “He bought five more desserts to go. Can you believe that?” Mario’s sheer amazement at kindness made her sad. “Mr. Grayson said to tell you that he’s sorry and he left a box for us.”
    “Stumbled over it on the way in.” She pointed to the mess that had been her purse. “Why don’t you pick out what you want, but make sure everyone gets something.” She grabbed the size-XL shirt. “I’m going to change.”
    She turned toward the door. Mario dove into the box, and his stomach growled so loudly Summer practically felt it vibrate.
    Grayson had helped one of her students. Fed a boy who would have gone hungry. Kindness was not something she’d seen in her new mentor. Perhaps she hadn’t been looking hard enough. Then again, he’d fallen asleep in her class. Given all he’d done for Mario, a mild attack of narcolepsy seemed minor.
    If Grayson still wanted to be her mentor, he was in…too bad she’d pulled the stunt with his phone and didn’t have his phone number.
    Without a backward glance, she called over her shoulder. “There’s half a dozen blueberry muffins somewhere in the pile that was my purse.” He needed her breakfast more than her, but he wouldn’t take charity. “I tried a new recipe last night and would love an honest opinion. Help yourself. And I have exactly twenty-seven dollars and thirty-two cents in my wallet. I