“Hey, I think it’s the school on the phone for you,” Trey says with a shaky voice. “You can’t catch a break, can you?”
An inkling of dread grabs hold of me. I look down at the prescriptions I’m working on, then gaze out to the waiting area, where Mr. Therrien is patiently waiting for his heart medication.
As much as I want to drop everything and run to the phone, I need to stay focused on finishing this task first.
A stray thought goes to my boys. So many things could be wrong. Maybe it’s something minor. Or not so minor.
The anticipation is killing me.
I steady myself. “Tell them I’m going to call them back in five minutes, okay?”
Trey frowns. “It seemed urgent.”
Fuck.
Don’t you think I know that?I want to scream at the young tech.
But there’s no use. He doesn’t have kids of his own, and is likely years away from thinking about such things.
So, I breathe in through my nose to calm myself instead. “Okay. I need to finish this prescription first. They’re aware of what my job entails.”
That’s why the school has been instructed to call Karan first whenever something urgent happens. They must have tried that.
And failed.
Trey nods nervously and heads back out to the phone.
I finish what I have to do, careful to move quickly without rushing anything or losing focus. Once I’ve spoken to Mr. Therrien and kindly sent him on his way, I rush to the phone. My fingers dial the number faster than my brain can recall it, the act having become almost muscle memory by now.
Once the secretary picks up, I can hardly contain my voice. “It’s Rachel Béchard. You called about Cayce and Corey Bhatia?”
“Yes, Miss Béchard. I think it would be best if you came and collected the boys.”
The dread strangles my heart. “What happened?”
“There’s been an incident with a substitute.”
The secretary refuses to go into more detail, telling me it’s best for me to come down and discuss it in person. So I bottle up the anxiety and the fear and make my way to the school, leaving my work yet again.
Once I finally arrive, a wave of relief floods through me at the sight of Cayce and Corey sitting in the office, side by side on the uncomfortable couch, their little faces tearstained by otherwise looking okay. I rush to them and scoop them up into my arms.
They cling to me for dear life, apparently still shaken from whatever happened to bring me here. I stroke their hair and murmur calming words into their ears, our moment of unity broken only by the throat-clearing of a woman behind me.
I turn, lifting both boys on my lap, and only now notice the two other adults in the room. Principal Zaidi is sitting calmly athis desk, while a woman I don’t know, a young, pale, nervous-looking girl, stands with her hands wringing together.
“Thank you for coming in, Miss Béchard,” Principal Zaidi says, speaking in his usual calming tone.
“What exactly happened?” I ask, keeping a hand on each son for their comfort.
“I’m so sorry!” the young woman bursts out, wringing her hands more violently than before, her gaze flitting to us and then away frantically. “I didn’t know… If I’d been told, I would have done things differently, I wouldn’t hav—”
“Léa,” Principal Zaidi interrupts, placing a hand on forearm. “Take a breath, okay?”
Léa’s panic sure as hell isn’t making me feel at ease, but I reel back the urge to go full mom-zilla and instead turn my attention to the principal.
“Léa’s new, and she was replacing Miss Thérèse, who’s out sick for the day.” An idea of what happened starts forming in my head, and now I’m the one who starts to feel sick. “I take full responsibility for not briefing Léa appropriately before she took over the classroom this morning.”
“She separated them.” The words that come out of my mouth are a statement, not a question.
