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.

Emily clenched her jaw. “You don’t understand. I knew you wouldn’t.”

“Then make me understand, Emily. Talk to me.”

Mark looked at her. “You said we were going to be honest, Emmy. She’s your mom. She deserves to know.”

Emily lowered her head.

“The other girls… They hate me. It’s not just one person. It’s all of them.”

They’re like that. They move their backpacks when I try to sit down. They whisper “try harder” every time I answer a question in English. At the gym, they pretend not to see me. They won’t even pass me the ball.

A sharp pain shot through my chest. “Why didn’t you tell me, Em?”

“Because I knew you’d burst into the principal’s office and make a scene. Then they’d hate me even more for being a snitch.”

“He’s not wrong,” Mark added quietly.

“So your solution was to fake a disappearance?” I asked him.

Mark sighed. “She was throwing up every morning, Zoe. Real physical discomfort from the stress. I thought I could give her a few days to rest while we worked out a plan.”

“A plan involves talking to the other parent. What exactly was the objective?”

Mark reached into the center console and pulled out a yellow notepad. It was filled with Emily’s neat, circular handwriting.

“We were writing everything down. I told her that if she reported it clearly (dates, names, specific incidents), the school would have to respond. We were drafting a formal complaint.”

Emily wiped her face with her sleeve. “I was going to send it. Sooner or later.”

“When?” I asked.

He did not respond.

Mark rubbed the back of his neck. “I know I should have called you. I answered her so many times. But she begged me not to. I didn’t want her to feel like I was choosing your side over hers. I wanted her to have a place where she felt safe.”

“This isn’t about taking sides, Mark. It’s about being parents. We have to be adults, even when they’re angry with us.”

“I know,” he said softly.

And I believed him. He seemed like a man who saw his daughter drowning and grabbed the first rope he found, even though it was frayed.

I turned to Emily. “Skipping classes doesn’t stop them, honey. It just gives them more power.”

His shoulders slumped.
Mark looked at both of us. “Let’s solve this together. The three of us. Right now.”

I blinked, surprised. Usually, he was the one who wanted to “sleep on it” or “wait for the right vibes.”

Emily blinked, her eyes wide. “Now? In the middle of second period?”

Continue on next page