Page 98 of Icarus

Icarus put his backpack next to the chair and looked down at his knees. He took a deep breath.

“So, what’s going on? You doing all right?” Mrs. Drake was looking him up on her computer. He wondered if her notes on him had changed.

“If I were going to transfer schools, how would I set that into motion?” Icarus asked.

Mrs. Drake stopped scrolling. “Is there something going on at this school that makes you want to leave?” she asked.

Icarus steadied himself and tried again. “Everything’s fine, I just want to know. I might have to move and I want to make sure I can pick up quickly and finish off the school year strong without having to do more time.”

Mrs. Drake turned away from her computer to face him. “Well, it depends on where you’re moving to.”

God, talking to this woman was like playing chess.

“I’m sure most places would be a bit weird about taking someone with only one semester left of school. But this is kind of more like a backup plan. I care enough about graduating to make it a priority regardless of what happens to me.”

Mrs. Drake leaned closer to him. “They wouldn’t be, it happens all the time. But more importantly, is something happening to you?”

Goddamn it.

“Yes, what’s happening is that I might have to transfer schools,” Icarus said. Then he stopped talking. Let the silence settle in the room for a while.

Mrs. Drake sighed. “Well, first thing you’ll need is your father’s signature on some paperwork. You’re legally allowed to drop out at sixteen, but a transfer requires guardian approval. Let me just get him on the phone and we can have your transfer paperwork ready to go. If you wind up not needing it, then we can just discard it, okay?”

She picked up the phone.

“Stop!” Icarus cried quickly, standing up. “Please don’t call him.”

Mrs. Drake slowly put the phone down and crossed her arms. Then, she just stared at him expectantly.

“Don’t . . . don’t make me drop out just because I don’t want to share this with you.”

Mrs. Drake sighed and opened her desk drawer.

“I’m a mandated reporter, you know.”

When Icarus didn’t react, she explained. “Mandated reporters are compelled to report child abuse to the authorities. It’s our job to make sure you’re okay. Are you okay, Icarus Gallagher?”

Icarus shook his head. “I’m fine. It’s something else. Someone else. I’m taking care of someone.”

Mrs. Drake’s face softened a bit. “Sometimes, having to take care of someone all on your own can be a kind of abuse, even if you love them. Parents can give you too much responsibility for you to handle. Even when they don’t mean to hurt you, it still can hurt you a great deal. Is this how you feel?”

Icarus bit the inside of his mouth until it bled. He wanted to scream. He wanted to sob. He wanted to go back in time to freshman year so he could throw himself into this room. When it could have mattered, when it could have made a difference.

Icarus swallowed the blood. Misinterpreted her words on purpose, even though something inside him was weeping to hear them.

“I don’t have any siblings to take care of. It’s just me and my dad and he’s fine. I promise it’s not what you think, and if something was happening, I . . .” Icarus held his breath. “If something was happening to me, I would be okay. I’m going to be eighteen in three weeks.”

He looked Mrs. Drake directly in the eyes. “When I turn eighteen, if I needed to, I could just leave.”

Mrs. Drake’s expression didn’t even flicker. “When you turn eighteen, you can sign your own transference paperwork,” she countered.

Icarus’s gaze dropped to the desk. That was too much time from now, and he wouldn’t be able to be here for it.

So, Icarus was going to do what he always did, when he was backed against a wall. He was going to be honest.

“Can you be kind to me?”

Mrs. Drake frowned.