My daughter used to go to school every morning. Then her teacher called her and said she’d been missing class for a whole week, so I followed her the next morning.

The next morning, I followed my routine.
I watched her walk through the entrance. Then I ran to my car. I parked a little way from the bus stop and watched her get on. So far, nothing unusual. I followed the bus. When it stopped with a whistle in front of the school, a flood of teenagers poured out. Emily was among them.

But as the crowd moved towards the double doors, she walked away.

He stayed close to the stop sign.

What are you doing?

I received my answer quickly.

An old pickup truck pulled up beside the curb. It was rusty at the wheel wells and had a dented tailgate. Emily yanked open the passenger door and climbed in.

My pulse was pounding in my ears. My first instinct was to call the police. I even picked up the phone… but she had smiled when she saw the truck. She got in willingly.

The truck drove off. I followed it.

Perhaps she was exaggerating, but even though she wasn’t in danger, she kept skipping class, and she needed to understand why.

They headed to the outskirts of town, where shopping centers give way to quiet green spaces. Finally, they arrived at a gravel parking lot near the lake.

“If I catch you skipping school to be with a boyfriend you haven’t told me about…”, I muttered as I parked behind them.

I stopped a short distance away and then I saw the driver.

“You’ve got to be kidding me!”

I got out of the car so fast that I didn’t even close the door.

I ran furiously toward the truck. Emily saw me first. She’d been laughing at something he’d said, but her smile faded when our eyes met.

I banged hard on the driver’s side window.

He went down slowly.

“Hey, Zoe, what are you doing…?”

“I’m following you.” I leaned against the door. “What are you doing? Emily’s supposed to be at school, and why the hell are you driving this? Where’s your Ford?”

“Well, I took her to the mechanic, but no…”
I raised my hand sharply. “Emily first. Why are you helping her skip school? You’re her father, Mark, you should know.”

Emily leaned forward. “I asked her, Mom. It wasn’t her idea.”

“But he accepted anyway. What exactly is going on here?”

Mark gently raised his hands. “She asked me to pick her up because she didn’t want to go…”

“That’s not how life works, Mark! You don’t just drop out of ninth grade because you don’t feel like it.”

“That’s not the case.”

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