Izzy smiles at him. “Maybe.”
He looks at me. “Are you?”
The question lands heavier than it should.
“I’ll try,” I tell him.
That seems to satisfy him.
“Okay. Bye, Mom! Bye, Dad! I love you!”
He hops out of the car and runs towards the entrance before either of us can say it back.
Izzy and I both watch until he disappears inside.
For a moment neither of us speaks.
Then, I pull away from the curb.
We drive without a destination for a while. Just moving through the morning traffic while the city wakes up around us. Izzy eventually shifts in her seat and looks over at me.
“You know,” she begins. “I got scared the other day.”
“When?”
“When you came to pick Noah up.” She pauses, watching the street ahead. “Someone at daycare told me a man had come byearlier asking about pickup rules. Said he was a concerned uncle or something.”
My hands tighten slightly on the wheel. “Izzy…”
“I’m not saying you were wrong!” she blurts. “Just, maybe we can discuss these things first? So there’s no?—”
“It wasn’t me, Izzy.”
She falls silent mid-sentence. “What?”
“I never came to the school.”
Horror dawns slowly on her face.
The realization hits both of us at the same time.
“Oh my God,” she whispers. “If it wasn’t you?—”
“We have to get Noah,” I growl. “Now.”
The engine roars as I turn the car around, breaking half a dozen laws. Traffic blurs past the windows while Izzy grips the dashboard.
“Faster,” she whispers.
I’m already pushing the car harder than I should on city streets.
By the time we reach the school again, something is wrong.
Teachers are gathered outside the entrance. Too many of them. A few parents stand nearby looking confused while staff members talk urgently into phones.
Izzy’s door flies open before the car has fully stopped.
She runs toward them. “What happened?”
