I’m desperately holding back tears while my heart breaks. It reminds me of all the taunts and jabs I received growing up. “Do you want to talk about it?”
She shakes her head.Good.It might make me go back in there alone, and I look washed out in orange.
“Let’s go home and have some ice cream,” I say. “Then we’ll figure out what to do. Does that sound okay?”
She pulls away and smiles a megawatt smile. “Sounds good.”
“Let’s go, kiddo.”
I follow her to Maggie’s car. We climb in and head off for home.
CHAPTER 30
Megan
My anticipation growswith every second that passes.
Kennedy sits across the table from me, legs crisscrossed on the chair and hands folded in her lap. The look on her face mirrors the sea of emotions raging inside me.
My heart hurts for her.
All afternoon and well into the evening, we talked off and on about what had happened at school. She’s told me how it feels to sit in a classroom and have her peers laugh at her. She talked about knowing her vulnerabilities and not being able to fix them, and much to my surprise, she’s demonstrated a great deal of emotional maturity by acknowledging her part in the problem at hand.
She knows she can handle the situation better. She just didn’t know how.
There’s not much I can say to her because I don’t know how she should’ve handled it either. But it’s tough to be heard and listened to—two completely different things—if the audiencedoesn’t want to listen. And, in this case, Mrs. Falconberry doesn’t want any part of that.
“So how do you think Dad will handle this?” she asks, nibbling on her bottom lip.
I blow out a breath. “Well, he’s logical and loves you more than the world. So you have that going for you.”
“It’s athree-day suspension. I think his logic will dissolve pretty fast.”
“Well, I’m sure he’s not going to be thrilled. But I'm sure he'll understand once we tell him what happened.”
She grins. “Whenwetell him what happened? Does that mean you won’t make me do it alone?”
“Were you trying to get me to say that?” I ask, pretending to be shocked.
“Maybe.”
I smile. “Yeah, I’ll help break the news.”
As I look at her across the table, I notice she’s sitting a bit taller. More confident. And I wonder if finally squaring off with Mrs. Falconbury and being heard helped her establish boundaries that make her feel safer.
I know it would’ve me. Because when I had to do it—when I had to risk more ridicule and draw even more attention to myself to be taken seriously, it helped.
Even if it was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done.
“Ken, I’m proud of you.”
“Why?” She smiles mischievously. “Are you a rebel? Do you think I’m a boss because I got suspended?”
“Absolutely not.”
She laughs.
“I’m not saying you handled this whole thing the right way,” I tell her. “And I’m not condoning skipping class or getting into verbal altercations with the teachers, nor do I think getting suspended is great.”
