He turned back to his planner and winced, like I'd pinched him or something. He rubbed hard at his chin, frowning, mumbling something under his breath that I couldn't understand.
He turned back to me. “I'm sorry. I can't.”
I gave him my line about Bingledorf and the volunteer requirement.
“Do you have another commitment?” I asked
.
H
e went another shade of pale, but shook his head
is face paled
. “I'm sorry
.
,” he said, not answering the questioning. “
I
just can't
can't do it
.”
“
Oh,” I said. “Okay.”
I thought about bringing up the volunteer hours requirement. I thought about telling him about Stephen-with-a-P Morse to see if
I could appeal to his teacherly side. But before I could launch my assault, he suddenly looked up, his expression panicked.
“It's going to be here?” he asked. “At school?”
“
The talent show?” I stared at him. “Yes. Where else would it be?”
“
Yeah.”
He winced
as though someone had punched him in the gut.
“
Mr Riggler, are you alright?”
If he heard me, he didn't indicate this. Instead, he just stared at the calendar in front of him and muttered,
again and mumbled something that sounded a lot like
“What am I gonna do?”
“
I'm sorry?”
I let out an exasperated sigh. “What are you going to do about
what
?”
He started, like he'd forgotten I was in the room. “Uh...uh, nothing
.
,” he stammered, his face morphing to a startling shade of pink. “
I meant for tomorrow. What am I gonna do tomorrow
?
.
Y
For c
l
ass.
eah.”
“
ass.”
“
Oh,” I said,
“Okay.”
I was
completely baffled
by his reaction and his words
.
“Okay.”
“I guess just let me know if things change.” There was nothing else to say.
He
sat down in his chair, like I'd just told him that his dog had died. He
got a hand halfway through his hair before it grabbed tightly onto his skull.
“
Well, if things change,” I said, starting back for the door. “Let me know. I'd really love to have you there if you can be there.”
“Mmhmm,” he said, staring at his desk. “Sorry.”
I walked out into the hallway and stood there for a moment, wondering what had just happened. His
denial
refusal to participate
had sucked away all of my earlier optimism and enthusiasm. The fund
raiser, while not directly for him, affected him the most. We were doing it so he could get his room back to normal, to help him. It felt a little weird to think that we'd be putting on a fundraiser for him that he couldn't even attend.
A lot weird.
TWENTY FOUR
I went back to the counseling office.
Even though the bell was about to ring, signaling the end of the school day,
I'd decided
I'd stay at the school
to stay
a
bit
little
longer
to
so I could start putting together a
create an actual
mock-up schedule
schedule
for the show.
As much as I wanted to get home and see my kids, I knew I needed to
hammer out a few more details before I left, as much for the benefit of the show as for my peace of mind.
Doing it there was going to be easier than doing it at home because if I waited until the evening to do it, I'd be distracted by attention-needing children. And husbands. So I was laying out a schedule for the talent show night when I nearly rolled out of my chair because Emily was knocking on my door and saying “Mom?”
Charlotte was nowhere to be found; I knew she
'd had a meeting with Mrs. Bingledorf earlier and wondered if it had run late.
There was a knock on the door and I looked up.
Emily was standing in the doorway.
“Mom?”
“
Oh my god,” I said, rubbing my eyes.
I rubbed my eyes.
“Are you addressing me here at school? People will find out that you know me.”
She rolled her eyes and stepped all the way into the office, followed by her best friend, Bailey Prat
t, who held up a hand and grinned at me.
t
.
“Hey, Mrs. S!”
Both of them were wearing black Prism hoodies and I stifled a smile as I stared at their school apparel. The name of the school was embroidered in silver
thread but the sweatshirts were devoid of mascots or symbols. When the school first formed and was named a few years ago, the kids unanimously voted for a rainbow as their
school logo. This was immediately shot down by the more conservative, homophobic members of the school community. Their next offering was a three-dimensional triangle – an actual prism – but a local pastor
who served on the board thought this looked too much like an occult symbol
and that idea was nixed, too. So the athletes w
ore black and silver uniforms, which wasn't a bad thing, and the students sported the same colors on their apparel, and the school was still mascot-less. Jake had pointed out that it was probably a good thing, since no kid in their right mind would want a walking triangle cheering them on at their games.
“
Hi, Mrs. S!” Bailed said in her boisterous, friendly way.
I
pointed
smiled
at Bailey and looked at Em. “See? She's
, like,
super
excited to see me and she hasn't been ostracized by her peers.”
Em's cheeks blossomed crimson. “Whatever.”
“You have your own office?” Bailey said, chomping on a piece of gum
,
and
looking around. “That was fast. Cool.”
“I'm sharing it,” I said. “With Ms. Nordhoff.”
Bailey nodded
, still chomping.
. Her hair was the same color as Emily's, a warm, almost golden brown, but she wore hers longer and straighter.
“Cool. Pretty soon you'll be working here full-time.”
Emily
glared
frowned
at her. “No
.
, she won't.
”
Bailey blew a bubble and popped it. “Your mom is cool. She listens to loud music in the car and always has junk food at home. You know what I get? Christian hymns and granola bars.” Bailey grinned at me. “You can kick her out and I'll take her place, 'kay?”
I nodded. “I'll consider that.”
Emily sighed, totally bored with our
shenanigans
banter
. “Yeah. You
guys
two can go and
be besties
or whatever
.” She looked at me. “Are you leaving soon?”
I shook my head. “No, I
'm gonna
need to
stay for awhile to work on a few things.”
She sighed again and h
H
er shoulders dropped. “We need a ride.”
“Isn't there a late bus?” I asked.
“Yeah, but we don't wanna take it,” Emily said.
“Why?”
“It smells,” Bailey said, sitting down on the corner of my desk and blowing another bubble. “Plus, Alex Madden is on it.”
Emily pummeled her in the shoulder. “Stop.”
Bailey rubbed her shoulder and wrinkled her nose at me. “Alex likes Em. He's kind of a dork, but also kinda nice.”