“Assessed by a psychologist about his social and cognitive development,” Ms. Heather corrects.
Panic has set in and Elodie starts to rise, but Bren puts a hand on her knee. “Can you just tell us exactly what he’s done?”
“It isn’t about what he’s done, Mr. January. No one is in trouble here.” Ms. Heather laces her fingers together on her desk. “My main concern is that Jude doesn’t keep up in class. He seems unable to grasp the lessons, and he is more likely to do crayon scribbles over his worksheets, which…” She hesitates. “Let’s just say his behaviors come across as very young at times. You know he has frequent accidents in school still.”
Bren casts a quick look at Elodie, and her jaw tightens. It didn’t seem a big deal that he’s often sent home with a sealed bag of soiled pants to be washed, his emergency replacement clothes in use when she picks him up.
“You ask us to supply extra clothes,” Elodie says.
“We do expect it occasionally at this age, but this happens several times a week for Jude. He gets very focused on a task or game, particularly during recess, and he doesn’t seem able to anticipate his bodily needs until the situation is beyond his control. I’ve noticed this with his emotions as well. There have been more than a few times he’s been frustrated and struck out at my aide or one of his classmates. We do take hitting very seriously.”
“He’s a child,” Elodie says. “Children can’t regulate their emotions. And he’s had huge upheavals this year, what with moving countries.”
Ms. Heather nods in this kind way that feels performative. “I understand that, Mrs. January. But he’s been in my class for several months now, and things haven’t improved. He’s also been quite fragile this week and in tears several times before pickup. He keeps saying ‘It’s scary,’ and we’re not sure what he’s referring to. I wondered if a big change might have happened recently at home.”
Elodie’s skull echoes with alarm bells, and all she can think of are Jude’s solemn eyes watching her melt down on the kitchen floor while news of her parents’ suicides burned across her phone screen, or his inconsolable screaming when she forced him to eat a spoonful of glass. Or how he ran to her in panic when the house tried to spear her with a light fixture.I heard a scary thing in the walls.If people start asking questions, asking him to talk—they’ll take him away from her. She won’t survive that, and neither will he, both of them still bound by a bloody umbilical cord that was never truly severed. They are still one. He is still fused to her, his heart cut from hers, his lungs only inflating because she breathes into them.
She must play this carefully.
But her mouth has barely opened before Bren leans back in his chair and says with unbothered factuality, “Actually, yeah. He did get a bit of a shock recently.”
The urge to lunge over and cover his mouth surges through Elodie’s chest. She digs fingernails into his thigh, but he doesn’t notice.
“Elodie’s pregnant,” Bren says, his smile wide and proud, and it takes a full minute for the words to sink in over the static roaring in her ears. “She only just told Jude.”
Ms. Heather smiles. “Oh, congratulations. That’s lovely. I imagine Jude is very close with his mother and this feels like another upheaval in his life.”
“He’ll get used to it,” Bren says. “But yeah, I’m guessing he’s acting out because of this. We’ll talk to him.”
Elodie is so flooded with relief she feels dizzy. Of course Bren would think it’s about the baby. That’s all he ever thinks about.
“While that explains this week, it doesn’t address the other behaviors.” Ms. Heather flicks a glance from Bren to Elodie, concern furrowing her brow. “He’s also constantly overwhelmed in my class and has his hands over his ears. This speaks of sensory overload to me.”
Elodie’s heart still beats too fast, but she has her voice under control. “He’s just shy.”
This time, Ms. Heather’s smile is thin. “Like I said, I can accommodate Jude. But I need to know what we’re working with, and for that, he needs an assessment and possibly an IEP. For now, though, I’d suggest he takes a week off from school.”
“But…” Elodie stares. “No. That’s not fair?”
“I think we all want what’s best for Jude.” Ms. Heather adjusts her glasses again, and Elodie is struck with annoyance at this fresh-faced, inexperienced woman. What wouldsheknow about children, about Jude? “I also have to mention,” she goes on, tentative, “I am concerned about the amount of bruises I see on him.”
Elodie’s throat feels full of ice. What is she meant to say?He has extreme meltdowns where he beats himself against the floors.“I do not hit my son, if that’s what you’re implying.”
“We have a specific protocol to have a chat with CPS if—” Ms. Heather begins.
“All right, hold up.” An annoyed hardness settles on Bren’s face. “You just finished saying Jude has behavioral issues, and now you’re accusing us of beating him?”
“I’m not accusing—”
“Don’t try that.” Bren gives her a withering once-over. “Unless you want to head into a defamation lawsuit.”
This garners the hoped-for reaction—Ms. Heather looks nervous, repeating something about school policy and not her personal views, but Bren is furious. Elodie has never been so thrilled.
There is only so much she can take, sitting here and letting scathing condemnations rip furrows in her back. She’s still on edge from tearing up the wallpaper, and this feels like being taken by the throat in one of her worst nightmares.
“You admit to failing to educate Jude,” Bren goes on, “and then pass it off ashisfault. Or, wait, you think it’sourfault, right? I’m questioning the competency of this school.”
“It’s fine, Bren.” Elodie stands, her fingers curled to hide the tremor. “I’m honestly not sure I want him here.”
