A sarcastic laugh escaped him. “The teachers? You mean the same teachers who didn’t do shit when Ryan was bullied last year and killed himself? Did you all just forget about him already? Where were the teachers then, huh? Where were they when Ryan jumped off the bridge because he couldn’t take the bullying anymore?”
I tried to say something rational, but his anger was more than justified. The town had lost Ryan last year to a bullying-related suicide. Despite multiple reports, the bully wasn’t removed from the school until after it happened.
After.
And now Benny had taken over as the school bully.
I sighed. Schools just weren’t what they used to be. Classrooms were now packed to the brim. Teachers were overwhelmed and underpaid. Parents were working themselves into the ground just to keep the lights on. Too tired to give their kids the attention and guidance they desperately needed.
“You always taught me to hit back,” Dylan said. “Never hit first, but when a punch comes, you hit back hard or you become the target.”
“But Benny didn’t attack.”
“Oh … so you want me to be a coward? Someone who just watchesothersget bullied?”
I glanced in the rearview mirror. I looked so tired. Burned out. My brown hair hadn’t been washed in who knew how long, and I had dark circles under my eyes. My brown eyes just stared back at me, dull. New wrinkles deepened on my forehead. My T-shirt and leggings looked more like a jogging outfit than real clothes. I had lost weight too. I’d always looked so young and was full of laughs. But now it seemed so long ago since people last asked if Dylan and I were siblings. There actually had been a time when people shook their heads in flattering shock when I said he was my son.
It felt like I was failing on all fronts.
A strained marriage.
A teenager fighting the world.
An eight-year-old with a million hobbies and a toddler who sucked the life out of me like a vampire.
Still, I loved them. So much.
My hand found Dylan’s. “You’re right. I’m sorry. You don’t have to apologize to Benny. I’ll handle Mrs. Griffin. But please try to talk to the teachers first when you see Benny bullying someone. All these shootings— The times we live in aren’t safe. And your teachers are trying their best. But I got your back. I always do.”
Dylan’s eyes softened. He looked like he finally felt seen again.
“Thanks, Mom,” he said.
Our family wasn’t perfect, but we all tried our best.
“Let’s go,” I said. “Grandma is coming over tonight.”
“I thought you weren’t leaving for the lake house until tomorrow.”
“I’m not. I’ll leave tomorrow after work and carpool with Zach. But Grandma will keep Ethan home from daycare tomorrow because of his cough. She’s staying the night to make things less stressful in the morning.”
He offered a bored nod.
“You going to behave?” I asked. “Otherwise, I’ll cancel the trip and—”
“Nah, you go. Dad really needs it.”
I reached up and tucked a strand of his hair behind his ear. Kids were smart. Too smart sometimes. Especially Dylan, who was able to pick up on his dad’s bad moods like certain animals that went still before an earthquake. Brian did indeed need the kid-free weekend. He had much less tolerance for stress than I did. And lately he looked so lost in life. Every evening, the moment he came back home from his HVAC business, the responsibilities of being a dad rolled over him like a bulldozer.
“Can you help Grandma with the little terrorists?” I joked. The younger kids listened to Dylan more than to us. His teenage sass kept Ethan and Lila in check.
Dylan grinned. “You make it sound like Grandma is some old lady with a cane. She doesn’t need anyone’s help. All Viking warrior woman ’n’ shit.”
I laughed. “That’s true. But you know she has high blood pressure.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll keep the little monsters in line.”
I started the car.
