Chapter Twenty-one
BEN SPENTSunday alone, mildly hungover and completely humiliated, and it wasallLiam Marshall’s fault.
The lack of Kevin was definitely Liam’s fault. Obviously and completely.
But normally Ben could have hung out with Seth and Dinah on Sunday—their post-party brunches were such a tradition there was barely any need for discussion. Except that Liam had stayed withthem after the party, and he would probably stick around for the meal. And Ben had seen more than enough of Liam Marshall for one weekend.
For one lifetime, he told himself. Liam was done, finished, out of Ben’s life. Kevin was the future, as long as Kevin calmed the hell down and decided he actuallywanteda future with Ben.
If not Kevin, then someone else. It didn’t really matter, as longas it wasn’t Liam fucking Marshall.
Ben made it through most of Sunday without wavering from that stance and turned it into his mantra as the week wore on.Anyone but Liam. Anyone but Liam.
By Thursday, when he walked into the long-delayed meeting with Peyton, his aggressive student, and Larissa, her even-more-aggressive mother, the words were imbedded firmly in his mind, a low buzz of denialbehind everything he did. Wake up in the morning,anyone but Liam, go for a run,anyone but Liam, eat his breakfast, drive to school, greet his students, get through the day,anyone but Liamrumbling along in the background of it all.
But that background chant was finally silenced, at least temporarily, on Thursday after school when he looked up from his marking and saw Peyton and her motherstalking through the classroom door. Peyton lean and scowling in jeans and a baggy flannel shirt, her mother more rounded but with similar clothes and the exact same expression on her face. Ben needed to keep his full attention on the task at hand if he was going to survive the meeting.
“Hey, Peyton,” Ben said, working his best “friendly but in charge” tone as he stood up and made his way aroundhis desk. “And Mrs. Dale. Thanks so much for—”
“Ms.,” she growled.
Shit. Stupid mistake on his part—he had no idea if Peyton’s dad had married her mom, but he sure as hell wasn’t in the picture anymore, and getting the honorifics wrong was a horrible start to a meeting. “I’m sorry. But—thanks for coming in. I really appreciate you—”
“You’re not going to appreciate me for long.” She looked atthe three plastic and metal chairs he’d arranged around a student desk near the door and shook her head as if displeased with the accommodations. “We might as well sit down.”
And just like that, she was in control. She went on the offensive immediately, demanding to know why her daughter was being insulted, what was being done to punish the other student, and telling Ben how sick she was of herdaughter being judged just for standing up for herself.
Ben made himself really listen. He absorbed the anger, the protectiveness behind it, and the love behind that. An angry parent was a parent who cared, and that was a hell of a lot better than the apathy he saw far too often. Not that he enjoyed being yelled at in front of a student, but he could take it.
And when Ms. Dale finally wounddown, he was ready. “Peyton’s a great kid,” he said, and he meant it. “She’s doing well academically, and I love seeing what she’s reading and talking to her about it. I think she has some really mature insight into a lot of the stories.”
Yeah, that knocked Mom back at least temporarily. Damn, Ben was going to be able to pull something useful out of this meeting after all. “Socially, I thinkshe’s struggling a little. Peyton, does that sound right? I know you were friends with Marlys, right? But since she moved away, is there—”
“I have enough friends.”
“And we’re not looking to you for help with any of that,” Ms. Dale growled. “You’re herteacher, not her social secretary. You teach her what you’re supposed to and leave the rest of it alone!”
“Well, the role of a teacher is a bitmore complex than that. Students can’t learn well if they’re unhappy, or if—”
“They can’t learn if some asshole boy is bullying them and calling them names, that’s for sure!”
Ben managed to keep his sigh internal. “I agree. And as I said, there have been consequences for that student. But he’s not the only student that Peyton’s had trouble with this year. Peyton, you and I have talked aboutthis—I always feel bad talking about a student as if they’re not in the room, but is it okay if I review some of the things we’ve discussed?”
“You don’t need to.” Ms. Dale looked at her daughter and her angry face melted, just for a moment, into something warm and gentle. “Peyton tells me everything. She’s told me all about your deep breathing and your drawers for feelings and all the rest ofit. And we both think it’s crap.”
“It’s about self-control. About being smart and protecting yourself and not letting your emotions take over.”
Ms. Dale stared at him like he was an alien. “Protecting herself? Not letting her emotionstake over? That’s bullshit. She’s eleven years old, and she’s strong and tough and she doesn’t need toprotect herself, not from her own damn feelings!”
Ben waslosing control of the conversation again. “I agree that she’s strong and tough, but the world can be a hard place. I think we need to help her figure out how to not get hurt—”
“Not get hurt?” He would have thought her glare was at maximum level before, but apparently Ms. Dale had the ability to turn things up to eleven. “Of course she’s going to get hurt! She’s been hurt already.” She glaredat Ben as if he should have known that, but whatever the injury was, it hadn’t been in Peyton’s file. Then she turned to her daughter. “But after you get hurt you get back up and you keep fighting. Right? Your dad was an asshole—I should have protected you better. You could have given up after that, but you didn’t.” She turned back to Ben. “Shedidn’t, and shewon’t. She’s been hurt, and she’llbe hurt again and again, because that’s what lifeis.”
Ben stared at her, trying to sort through the words and the emotions behind them. Emotions from Ms. Dale, but also, strangely, from himself.
Ms. Dale shook her head fiercely. “My daughter’s going tolive. She’s not going to hide away from everything—fromherself. She’s going to feel it all, and live it all, and she’s going to get hurt, butthe times in between the hurt will be fantastic. She’s not going to turn herself into some prissy little robot. She’s not going to whimper, she’s going to fuckingroar. And if Ty Connelly or any other asshole thinks he’s going to call her names, she’s going to make him regret it.”
Yeah, Ben had absolutely lost control of the meeting. He wished he’d recorded it, wished he could play it back andanalyze where things had gone wrong. But in the meantime he said, “Ty Connelly is quite a bit smaller than Peyton, physically. She might be able to intimidate him, but sooner or later she’ll run into someone bigger than her and tougher than her.”
