"Of course," I said. My knuckles went white, wrapping around the chair’s arm as I sat.
Zaden slid in beside me, calm and predatory, neither smiling nor frowning. His presence sucked all the air from the room. Even the guidance counselor straightened up, pen poised over her notepad.
Givens folded his hands on the table. "We wanted to talk with you about some challenging incidents we’ve observed with Bryce. There’s obviously been a lot of disruption for him lately, and this morning was, frankly, a lot."
He hesitated, looking at Zaden, then at me.
Ms. Halloway cut in gently. "Bryce is a remarkable student. Popular, too. But there have been a series of behaviors that concern us, and we want to make sure he’s supported."
I looked at Zaden. He gave a nearly imperceptible nod. We should play it soft for now.
I said, "What happened?"
Principal Givens cleared his throat. "Well. In math class, there was a power surge. The lights flickered very intensely and several actually went out. The maintenance staff checked for wiring problems but couldn’t find the cause. Bryce was visibly upset by it. At lunch, there was another episode. Bryce’s milk carton apparently levitated off the table. Multiple students saw it. His tablemates were frightened, as I’m sure you can imagine. These sort of pranks are disruptive."
Ms. Halloway cut in, "We’re not accusing Bryce of anything. But someone made his milk levitate somehow, and it upset his friends."
I thought of Bryce, alone in the nurse’s office, holding his head in his hands, and a fresh twist of guilt and anger ran through me.
"And after lunch?" Zaden prompted, voice low.
Givens shuffled his notes. "There was a hallway incident. Several students bumped into Bryce between classes. Witnesses say a locker door slammed shut, hard enough to startle everyone. Bryce wasn’t near it. But after that, he said he felt ill, and the staff sent him to the nurse."
I exhaled, pinching the bridge of my nose. "He’s been having headaches. Migraines, maybe."
Ms. Halloway’s eyes went soft with sympathy. "Transitions are tough on kids. Especially when there’s history. Would you like him evaluated by a doctor? We could set up homebound instruction if that’s needed."
I met Zaden’s eyes. The answer was already there.
He leaned forward, hands folded on the table. "It’s clear Bryce is getting overwhelmed with the classroom environment right now. We’d like to withdraw him for a bit. There’s an online program. I know several Stock Creek families use it during transitional periods." The wolf pack often had to pull their kids out of school during the time they were shifting and often used this same program. Some just homeschooled for the entirety of their children's schooltime.
Relief flashed across the principal’s face so fast it would’ve been funny anywhere else. "Of course. We have the forms here. You can enroll him in the online curriculum immediately."
Ms. Halloway scribbled something, then looked up at me. "Bryce is a sweet kid. He deserves to feel safe. And so do his classmates."
I gripped the chair harder, fighting the urge to snarl. "We’ll make sure he’s okay."
Zaden slipped an arm across the back of my seat. Steady, a little territorial, but it helped.
The principal passed the withdrawal forms across to me, a whole stack. Zaden took the top few and started signing. I filled out the rest, my hands shaking only a little.
It was stunning how prepared they were. No arguments, no pushback. Just "How soon can he be picked up?" and "Would you like his desk contents boxed?"
"We’ll take him now," I said, harsher than I meant to, but I didn't regret it. One bad day and they were ready to write my kid off.
Ms. Halloway nodded, biting her lip. "He’s in the nurse’s office. Do you want me to walk you there?"
I shook my head. "We know the way."
The principal finally met my eyes. "If Bryce needs anything, please reach out. We want what’s best for him."
I didn’t answer that. I couldn’t.
Zaden stood first, holding the door open. I followed, a paper folder clutched to my chest.
In the nurse’s office, Bryce sat in a vinyl chair, head in his hands. The nurse crouched in front of him, holding an icepack to his brow. Loose strands of his hair stuck to the sweat on his cheeks.
He looked up when we entered, eyes bloodshot, face pinched.
