Want to Know a Secret? (44)

But today, when I get to school, I don’t want to get out of my car.

Leo is going back to school today. That means Julie will be there. And even without Julie, it’s been awkward showing up at school since the accident. Everybody seems stiff and uncomfortable when I come over. Like I am the one who pushed poor Leo. It doesn’t help that they all think I brought a bunch of contaminated food to the bake sale.

“I think we’ll do the drop-off line today,” I tell Bobby.

He’s strapped into his booster seat in the back. He doesn’t say anything when I make this suggestion. But he doesn’t say not to do it. So I pull up alongside the school.

“Okay, honey!” I try to keep my voice as chipper as possible. “Have a wonderful day at school. I love you!”

Bobby doesn’t budge.

That’s unusual. Most days, he leaps out of the car and is running for the school, and I’m left racing to keep up. But now he is just sitting there in his booster seat, not making any moves to unbuckle himself.

“Bobby?” I don’t have much time. This is not a parking area, and if I linger too long, other parents will start honking at me. “Time to get out.”

He still doesn’t budge. And now his lower lip is trembling.

Right on cue, somebody honks at me. “Bobby, honey, what’s wrong?”

I hear another honk. Somebody yells something at me, possibly an obscenity.

“Bobby?”

He’s just sitting there. His Star Wars backpack is on his left side, stuffed with God knows what. We need to go through that backpack tonight. Last time, I found the rocks inside. Like five legit rocks. But that’s the least of our problems right now.

There’s a rap at the passenger side window. It’s a teacher.

“If you’re not dropping off a child,” the teacher says, “you need to park in a different area. This is the drop-off line.”

“I understand that. But my son is very upset and—”

“But this is the drop-off line. We need to keep the line moving. If you’re not getting out—”

“All right! I’ll move!”

I throw the car back into drive. I pull out of the drive-through line and off to the side. My hands are shaking on the steering wheel. The early bell has already rung and we’ve got about five minutes before the late bell rings. I’ll probably have to walk him in and get a tardy slip.

“Bobby,” I say as calmly as I can. “What’s wrong? Why don’t you want to get out of the car?”

Finally, his little face crumples. Tears start to stream down his cheeks. “Everybody hates me!”

I can’t believe what I’m hearing. Bobby has always been very popular. He’s one of those kids everybody likes. He gets it from his father. “No, they don’t. Why would you say that?

“They think that I pushed Leo. But I didn’t!”

“Oh, Bobby…” I’m not sure entirely what to say. People always say “little kids, little problems” but this is a big problem. I don’t know what kind of advice to give him when I’m not dealing with it any better than he is. “Listen, the other kids will forget all about it. I promise.”

I end up going in the backseat and the two of us talk for another ten minutes. Part of me wonders if I should just take Bobby home for the day. On the other hand, why should he have to stay home? Bobby did nothing wrong. Owen is the one behind everything.

I finally manage to persuade Bobby to go to school, and I have to walk him inside and he gets a tardy slip. His first tardy in over two years of school.

After sending Bobby off to his classroom, I’m about to leave for home, but then I see Julie Bressler coming out of the nurse’s office. My first instinct is to cover my face and make a run for it. But of course, she sees me.

“April,” she says. I take it as a positive she didn’t ignore me.

“Hi, Julie.” I force a smile, which is the hardest thing I’ve had to do yet today. “How are you?”

She ignores my question. “I need to speak to you.”

“Um…” I shift in my flats. “Okay... when?”

“Now, if possible.”

“Um, okay…”

I get a sick feeling in my stomach. Is she going to serve me with a lawsuit? How does that even work? Or maybe she believes me about Owen, and she’s asking for my forgiveness.

No, not likely.

Whatever it is, I’m not sure I want to hear about it.

_____



My legs feel like jello as I follow Julie to her office on the first floor. It’s not really an office. It’s just a spare room that they let the president of the PTA use for work, but she likes to call it her office, and I’m not going to argue with her. Sometimes I do think Julie ought to go back to practicing law.

The office consists of a small conference table, and Julie sits on one side of the table. She gestures at a chair on the other side. “Sit down,” she says.

“No ‘please’?”

My attempt at humor is met with silence. I slide into the chair, not a moment too soon because I feel like I can barely stand up. I’m getting upset over nothing though. Julie isn’t serving me with a lawsuit—that doesn’t make sense. She probably just wants my help with something for the PTA.