Harper’s dad, while not being overly bubbly, seemed at least like a decent guy. He picked Harper up from that same birthday party. Harper had already broken some trinket out of her party favor bag and was upset about it. Rather than telling her to stop whining or worse, yelling at her, he’d crouched down to her level, listened to her concerns, and helped her try to put it back together. When it didn’t work, I heard him say something like, “It’s a bummer when things break, eh?” Then he kissed her forehead and they headed out. It was simple, and sweet, and very much not like Harper’s mom.
Granted, that was parenting in a room full of parents, but it didn’t feel performative. He didn’t even seem to notice the room around him.
Sitting in the principal’s office, it was clear he didn’t care what anyone thought. I quickly clocked his clothes: a sweaty black shirt with the sleeves cut off emblazoned with “L.A. Princes” and a pair of purple shorts. Messy curls poked out from under his backwards hat, days-old scruff dotting his face.
But Harper’s dad wasn’t my main focus.
I locked eyes with Aspen when I walked in, who immediately cast his gaze to the floor. I kissed the top of his head as I sat in the chair between him and Harper’s dad. “You alright, buddy?”
Aspen muttered a non-committal sound. A woman in a chair across the room scoffed, her daughter sitting on her lap.
“Hi,” I said, sheepishly extending my hand. “I’m Mara, Aspen’s mom.”
“Kristin,” the woman scowled. “Serena’s mom.”
She returned to her work of fussing over Serena’s angelic hair. Her brow would have creased, but she seemed to have enough botulin in it to prevent any such natural movement.
No shade on those who love the ‘Tox, but as a single mom, I had neither the time nor the spare money to worry about things like wrinkles in my mid-thirties. I was lucky to be able to keep our apartment and have enough money for Aspen’s hockey. I sure as hell wasn’t getting child support from Bryce.
Harper’s dad was in the chair next to me. From Bryce, I knew he was some big famous hockey player. Getting a longer look, I noted he was dressed like he’d just come from his eighteenth set at the gym or maybe his twelfth hour at the tattoo parlor.
The missing sleeves revealed a multitude of tattoos, including something creeping up the side of his neck. That’s something I didn’t see when he was bundled up at the rink, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t think it was sexy as hell. I reached for his densely tattooed hand and shot him a warm smile. “Mara.”
I resisted the more feral voice bubbling from my reproductive system, screaming, “Hell-ooo, Daddy.”
This man’s eyes were frosty cold, with a white scar in his otherwise dark eyebrow. His face was covered in a matching dark scruff peppered through with a few salts, complementing the loosely controlled mop of dark curly hair on his head. He flashed his attempt at a grin, which looked more like a dog baring its teeth. “Jack.”
His hand met mine like he was going to do some elaborate sports handshake thingie. The informality and playfulness of it despite our circumstances brought a blush to my cheeks.
There would be no hitting on Aspen’s friend’s dad, but I could at least admire the scenery. “Great to finally officially meet you. Aspen’s said so much about you.”
The frigid eyes got the slightest warmth to them as Jack bent to catch Aspen’s eye. “Oh yeah?”
Aspen did not have such a cool guy response, completely lighting up under Jack’s attention. He nodded and Jack extended his tattooed knuckles to Aspen. “Put ‘er there, bud.”
Aspen pounded Jack’s rock and the principal cleared her throat. “I’m Sharon, or Mrs. Springfield. Nice to meet you, Kristin and Mara,” she turned to Jack, “and good to see you, Jacques.”
“It’s Jack,” he grumbled, hostility seeping through his tone.
Sharon gave a brief nod and sat back in her rolling desk chair that had seen better days. “It’s come to my attention that there’s been a conflict between Harper, Aspen, and Serena.”
“I’m sure we can work this out,” I said with the previously practiced smile.
“There’s nothing to ‘work out,’” Jack bit. “Serena’s been bullying Harper, and she finally got what was coming to her.”
My eyes widened and I stifled a shocked laugh.
“Excuse me?” Serena’s mom gasped, putting a hand to her chest.
“Yeah, karma’s a bitch!” Jack went on. “Maybe try teaching your kid that if she’s obsessed with my daughter, she should try not being a complete and utter dick to her. I told Harper to fight back.”
“Mr. Leroy!” Sharon exclaimed. “We do not condone fighting at this school, and we do not use foul language or call children names.”
“Maybe just the parents should talk,” I tried, but Jack was going back in.
“It’s Jack,” he said. “And I’m not putting up with this routine where we pretend like my kid and Mara’s kid are in the wrong when Serena’s been doing everything her kindergarten brain can come up with to make Harper and Aspen miserable.”
“They cut her hair!” Kristin shouted. “It looks ridiculous now!”
