More Than I Could (78)

“Yes, is this Megan Kramer?”

“It is.”

“Hi, Ms. Kramer. This is Principal Walding at Peachwood Hills Schools. We have a situation with Kennedy Marshall, and you are listed as the point of contact. Is that correct?”

Oh shit.

I get to my feet, the blueberries forgotten. “Is she all right?”

“I need you to confirm you’re the point of contact, please.”

“Yes. I’m the point of contact. Is she all right?”

He sighs. “She is. But we’ll need you or her father or grandmother—I believe they are the other two on the list—to come to my office. We have a few things we need to discuss.”

My mind spins. What do I do? “Okay. Well, I can be there in twenty minutes. Is that okay?”

“That’ll be fine. Just let the secretary know I’m waiting for you.”

“I’ll see you shortly.”

“Goodbye, Ms. Kramer.”

I end the call. “Fuck.”

Holding my head, I pace back and forth. “What do I do? Do I call Chase? Do I call Maggie back?” I stop moving. “No, Chase asked you to take care of things. You don’t even know what the situation is yet. It could be silly, and there’s no need to worry him.”

I groan, looking at the ceiling. I consider calling Gavin but quickly decide against it. Chase never insinuated that I should do that if something arose.

“Mom swears you’re the right person to help with Ken, and honestly …” A grin twitches against his lips. “I might not disagree.”

“You might not, huh?”

“Well, in your favor, you seem like it’ll be hard for Kennedy to steamroll.”

I laugh. “That, I assure you.”

“So we have a plan then?”

I race upstairs to put on clean clothes.

It looks like I have an appointment with the principal.





“Hi. I’m Megan Kramer here to see … the principal.” I forgot his name. “He called me a little while ago.”

“Yes, Ms. Kramer. Have a seat, and I’ll let him know you’re here.”

She eyes me over the top of black-rimmed glasses like I’m a stranger coming in off the street. Nice.

I sit under an oversized picture of Principal Walding and his big toothy grin.

My nerves have been frayed since I hung up the phone. I’ve gone back and forth over whether to call Chase. If it’s an emergency, I’ll have to let him know. But, in the end, it makes the most sense just to let him get his job finished so he can come home. He’ll be home tonight, anyway.

Besides, he put me on the call list so I could take care of things.

This is things.

A door squeaks to my right, and the same man in the picture above me stands behind me, minus a few strands of hair.

“Come in, Ms. Kramer,” he says, ushering me into his office.

Kennedy sits in a pleather chair with her arms crossed over her chest. Next to her is a woman in her forties with perfect hair and a button-down top tucked into a pleated skirt.

I make a point not to look at my jeans and T-shirt. At least I found a blazer to throw on over my shirt.

Principal Walding pulls in a chair from the waiting room for me to use. I sit next to Kennedy. When I look at her, she rolls her eyes and huffs.

Fabulous.

“Ms. Kramer, I’m Principal Walding, and this is Mrs. Falconbury. Kennedy is in her Health and Wellness class.”

I fold my hands on my lap. “It’s nice to meet you both.”

“We’ve had a few situations lately where Kennedy decided to skip class,” he says. “I’m sure you can understand why that’s unacceptable.”

“Yes. If she’s not there, I can see why that’s a problem.”

I glance at Kennedy out of the corner of my eye. She glares at me.

“Here’s the thing,” Kennedy says, hands on her hips. “I was there. I didn’t skip class.”

“Ken, please. Don’t lie to me.”

Her jaw drops. “I was there, Dad. I mean it. I was as shocked as you are when I got that today.”

“After this exact conversation last week, I find that hard to believe.”

“Dad.”

“I thought we were getting somewhere. I thought you were going to do better.”

“I am doing better. Why don’t you believe me?”

The principal takes off his glasses and places them on his desk. “She’s had no fewer than seven detentions already this year.”

“That feels excessive,” I say.

“It is excessive,” Mrs. Falconbury says from across the room. “And totally unnecessary. If she just showed up, I wouldn’t have to punish her.”

Kennedy’s eyes are trained on the floor.

“What happened today?” I ask. “Did she miss class again today?”

“No,” the principal says. “Today, Kennedy chose to have a verbal altercation with Mrs. Falconbury.”

Kennedy springs up in her seat. “That’s not true.”

“I’ve already heard enough from you today, young lady,” her teacher says.

“But I didn’t choose to have any altercation with you. You chose it. You started saying—”