“Yeah, and maybe if you had a dad, he could pay for it,” another kid adds with a cruel laugh.
Ash’s face is red, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. “Shut up, Tyler.”
“What’s he gonna do, tell his daddy on us? Oh, wait—he doesn’t have one.”
That’s it. I’m moving before I even realize it, my heels clicking against the pavement as I approach the group.
“Excuse me.” My voice is sharp enough to cut glass. All four boys turn to look at me. “Teddy, is it?” I ask the boy who seems to be the ringleader.
Teddy, a boy with expensive sneakers and a smug expression, straightens up. “Yeah. I’m Teddy Pinkerton.”
Pinkerton. Of course. His dad owns half the commercial real estate in town.
“Well, Teddy Pinkerton, I think you owe Ash an apology.”
Teddy’s smugness falters. “We were just talking.”
“You were being cruel. There’s a difference.” I look at each of the boys in turn. “Having money doesn’t make you better than anyone else, and making fun of someone’s family situation says a lot more about your character than theirs. You should be ashamed.”
The other two boys have the decency to look ashamed. Teddy just crosses his arms. “Whatever. Come on, guys.”
They walk away, leaving Ash and me standing by the flagpole. My son won’t meet my eyes.
“Hey.” I crouch down to his level. “You okay?”
He shrugs, still looking at the ground. “They’re just stupid.”
“They are. But that doesn’t mean their words don’t hurt.” I wait until he looks at me. “Want to talk about it in the car?”
He nods, and we walk to the car in silence. Once we’re both buckled in, I turn to face him.
“How long has this been going on?”
“A while.” His voice is small. “Ever since the DC trip permission slips came out. Teddy keeps saying I can’t afford to go.”
My heart breaks a little more. “What do you tell him?”
“That I cantoogo. That you said I could.” He finally looks at me. “But what if he’s right? What if we really can’t afford it?”
The question hangs between us like a weight. I want to reassure him, to promise him that everything will be fine, but I’ve never lied to Ash about important things.
“We’ll figure it out,” I say finally. “I promise you that. Even if it means I have to work three jobs.”
“I don’t want you to work three jobs.”
“Then we’ll find another way. The point is, you’re going on that trip, okay? And Teddy Pinkerton can mind his own business.”
Ash nods, but I can see the worry still lingering in his eyes. “Mom?”
“Yeah?”
“Do you think it would be different if I had a dad?”
The question hits me like a physical blow. “Different how?”
“Easier. Like, maybe we’d have more money, and kids wouldn’t make fun of me.”
I take a deep breath, choosing my words carefully. “Having two parents can make some things easier, that’s true. But plenty of kids with two parents have problems too. And plenty of single moms raise amazing kids who turn out just fine.”
