I had always been a good student. A great student, really. Good grades, nice to the teachers. I had never gotten in trouble in school. It made no difference; sitting in Mrs. Ferber’s office, I was sweating bullets.
“I wanted to talk to you about Charlie,” she told me.
I sat up straighter. “What’s wrong?”
She shook her head. “Nothing’s wrong, precisely. I just wanted to speak to you about your family situation.”
If there was one thing I had learned growing up with my mom, my real mom, it was that you shouldn’t volunteer information to an authority figure. She had drilled that into me so I would be prepared when CPS came knocking: “You don’t tell them anything about us, you hear me? Do you want to get taken away from me?”
The answer had been no, but also yes.
I waited for Mrs. Ferber to explain. Like most people, it didn’t take her long to jump into the breach of silence.
“We’ve heard that Charlie’s mother is gravely ill. Is that the case?”
I nodded.
“I know that there were some, uh, existing problems within the household.”
What the heck did that mean? Again, I waited her out, and she didn’t disappoint.
“By that, I mean some instability with his parents.”
I wasn’t giving her anything. We sat for a moment in silence, and then she said, “Are you planning on taking guardianship of Charlie?”
“He doesn’t need a guardian. He has his mother. But yes, I’m here taking care of him,” I responded.
“And is this a permanent situation for you?”
It was none of her damn business and I guess she saw that I was about to tell her where she could shove her questions. “I only ask because Charlie has always been a very strong student and very popular with the staff here. We only want thebest for him.”
“As do I,” I told her, and stood up. “Excuse me, I have to get to work now.”
“Of course.” She stood too. “It was nice to meet you, Emily.”
So I was late to open the NGS, and of course there was a customer waiting outside in the whipping wind. “Sorry, sorry,” I said as I forced a smile at him and fumbled for the keys. “Monday mornings.” He didn’t smile back.
The whole day I felt as if I was running behind. I was late to get to school to get the kids because I helped one of our elderly customers take her groceries to her car; I was late pulling into the Athletic Complex and Darby and Charlie had to run to make it on time to practice (cue the lifeguard: “Slow it down! No running!”)
To top it off, my phone was completely silent. No one was texting me at all, not that I was expecting to hear from anyone, or anything like that.
Annie Whitaker was waiting at the edge of the bleachers when I came in carrying the equipment bag that Charlie had left in the back seat of the Bronco.
“Hi, Emily,” she said nervously. “Want to go for a run?”
“No, not today,” I shook my head. “I didn’t bring my stuff.”
“Oh, ok.” She looked crushed.
“No, Annie, I mean it. I’m not blowing you off, I really forgot my stuff. We had to run out of the house and I left my gym bag by the front door.”
“I have some extra shorts. Let’s just go quickly to the SportShack in the lobby and you can get some new shoes and a running bra,” she said enthusiastically.
For the second time that day, I felt my temper flare. “I can’t go to the Sport Shack to buy new shoes. I can’t buy a new bra. I can’t run today. Ok?”
“Oh, ok,” she said, crushed again. “Well, um, I just wanted to say that I’m really sorry for saying that you guys should stay at the meet. I didn’t understand your situation.”
My situation? I was getting increasingly angry. “Oh?”
