Life and Other Inconveniences(12)

Riley’s hair was glorious, even though she wore it in a ponytail most of the time. The kind of hair science couldn’t replicate.

LOL I know! I would kill myself if I was a ginger!!!

Right??? Plus what if you had albino skin and those freaky eyes!!!

My daughter, like me, was very fair. Her eyes were far from freaky . . . they were pure sky blue. They were exquisitely beautiful.

And freckles! Dude, you can laser those off. Just sayin.

My daughter had freckles.

Or use acid LOL.

And so I made more calls, to the parents, to the principal. This time, the parents weren’t quite so nice. “You know how girls are,” said Mikayla’s father.

“They weren’t specifically talking about Riley,” said Jenna’s mother.

“We’ll keep an eye on it,” said the principal.

Every day for the rest of the week, Riley came home with her eyes red, shoulders tight, and went to her room.

As a therapist, I knew she couldn’t run away from her problems. She’d have to tough it out, make different friends, develop coping mechanisms. Most teenagers went through this kind of thing.

As a mother, I was furious and terrified.

Then, on Friday, I got a call from the school. Riley was in the nurse’s office; Mikayla had shoved her in the girls’ room and held her down, then stuck a wad of gum in her hair.

My heart went ice-cold. I canceled my appointments from the car, raced to the school and took her in my arms.

She pulled away instantly. “Not here, Mom,” she hissed. “It’s bad enough.”

The principal stood by, his professionally sympathetic face on. “I’m so sorry this happened, Ri—” he began.

“Save it,” I spat. “If anyone touches my child again, I will sue this school and see you fired. Do you understand me?”

“There are four days left in the school year. Things will settle down over the summer.”

“That’s your answer? You’ll hear from an attorney by the end of the week. Shame on you for not shutting down this situation, you limp dick.”

“I know you’re upset,” he began.

“Fuck you, George,” I said. “You screwed up. Fix this.”

As we walked to the car, Riley’s shoulders were slumped. “You okay?” I asked.

“Fine.”

I drove her straight to the most expensive salon in town, where they teased out the gum and gave her a shampoo and blowout. I told them to bill Jane Freeman, Mikayla’s mother, who was a frequent client there. Then I dropped my daughter home. “Be back in ten,” I said, then went to Mikayla’s house. Tore into the driveway with a screech.

Jane answered. “I hear there was an altercation at school,” she said.

“I’m filing a restraining order against your child,” I said. “Keep her away from Riley, or she’ll end up in juvie. You think I don’t know how the system works? Watch me, Jane. And take a look at yourself while you’re at it. A nasty, bullying little shit doesn’t appear in a vacuum.”

I got back in my car and reversed onto their lawn, leaving ruts in the perfect green.

Pop was waiting at the kitchen table when I got home. “How is she?” I asked.

“She’s okay. Are you?”

“Nope.”

We looked at each other. He ran a hand through his white hair and sighed. “Guess we’re going to Connecticut,” he said. “I’ll start packing.”

Of course he’d come with us. “Thanks, Pop.” My throat tightened.

“Get that look out of your eye,” he grumbled, clearing his plate. “I got the dishes. Go talk to your kid.”

Riley was already in her pajamas, her face pale, circles under her eyes. Only her hair gleamed with its fiery color, smoother and shinier than it had been this morning.

“How you doing, honey?” I asked.

Her eyes welled with tears. “Okay,” she whispered, her hand going to her hair. “You were kind of awesome, Mom. Telling the principal to fuck off.”

I smiled. Fake smiled, because rage still pulsed through me.

“So, honey, I had an unexpected phone call last week,” I began. She didn’t answer. “From Genevieve,” I added.

Her big blue eyes widened even more. “Really?”

“Yes.”

“Did you call her? Because of me? Because Mikayla’s working at the store?” Accusation was heavy in her voice.

“Actually, no. She says she has cancer and she wants us to come to Connecticut and spend the summer. See her before she dies.” I was too wrung out to be tactful.

Riley’s eyes widened. “Wow. She’s got balls, asking you that.”

“Yes, she does.” I paused. “Do you want to go?”

Her look of surprise was almost comical. “Are you serious?”

“Mm-hm.”

“You really want to take care of that old hag? She booted you when you were pregnant, Mom.”

“I don’t want to take care of her. But . . . I do want her to meet you. See what she missed out on.” I took a slow breath. “It’s your choice, though. Totally up to you.”

“Then, yes.” For the first time in days, my daughter smiled. “Let’s get outta here, Mom!”