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I get through another round of serving orders, but my damn phone buzzes again in my pocket. It’s the same number as before. Signaling to Margaret that I’m taking a break, I accept the call on my way through the kitchen.
“Nice of you to finally answer,” a deep voice says.
He sounds familiar, but I can’t match his voice to a name or face. “I’m sorry. Who is this?”
“Seems like trouble runs in the family after all. This is Officer Cliff Daniels, and I’ve got Ben in my custody at the school. There was a fight, and Ben assaulted other students.”
“Is he hurt?”
“Your boy is fine. Maybe you should be asking how hurt the other boys are.” The officer’s gruff voice holds a note of accusation.
The fact that Ben is okay doesn’t reassure me.
“I’ll be right there,” I say with a shaky breath, my stomach dropping past my feet. It’s just my damn luck that this was the officer called. He has it out for me.
The officer gives a smug chuckle. “No need. This is a courtesy call. Given our history, I wanted to deliver the news myself. His father is on his way to retrieve him.”
“What do you mean?” I ask. The sinking feeling in my gut returns in full force.
“I’d hurry if I were you. If you plan to see him.”
The officer’s voice is filled with gleeful malice before the line goes dead. The haunting sound and the chilling silence make my spine tingle and my palms sweat. This is payback. Whatever he’s doing is because of me, and Ben is taking the heat.
My ears whoosh with white noise. On autopilot, I walk back into the kitchen and grab my stuff. My hands shake as I search for my keys.
“I’ve got to go,” I call over my shoulder to Cutter. “There’s been an incident with Ben at school.”
I don’t stop to listen to Cutter’s cursing, running to the car and speeding from the lot. My fingers tremble as I push redial on Trent’s number, but he doesn’t pick up. I call it again, almost missing a stop sign and coming to a jerking stop.
It goes to voicemail, and I curse myself for not fucking answering earlier. I take the right at the intersection and focus on making it to the school in one piece.
The lot is full, and I park in the back. Every part of me wants to break down. Tears threaten, but I refuse to let them fall. Instead, I scream in my empty car. It’s shrill and loud, but not enough. I grip the wheel too tightly and force myself to lock away my panic.
I text Finn and Reid, an S.O.S. in our group thread, telling them what I know and asking them to meet me at the school. My phone rings immediately, Reid’s name on the caller ID.
“I can’t cry. That’s why I didn’t call,” I say in answer, my voice already shaky from the careful way he says my name.
“We’re coming, sweetheart. Ten minutes tops. Hang on,” he assures me.
In the background, I hear Finn asking questions.
“Meet me inside. I have to get to Ben.” I get out of the car and hurry across the lot.
“Whatever it is, we’ll handle it, okay? We love you and him,” Reid says, his voice sure and comforting.
“I love you too. Hurry,” I whisper.
I hang up, afraid I’ll lose it if I keep them on the line. I’m feeling very unequipped for the task ahead of me. I don’t know if I’m ever prepared for parenthood. Every new obstacle feels as though I have to learn all over how to do this. But at least I know Reid and Finn will face it with me, and that’s more than I’ve ever had. I just have to hang on a little longer.
I follow the prim-looking school secretary until she stops at a closed wooden door.
“They’ll be with you shortly,” the young woman says, holding her hand out for me to enter.
“Can I see my son?” I ask her.
“That’s not for me to say. They’ll answer any questions you have. The social worker is already on his way.” She turns on her nude pumps and walks back down the hallway of the administration building of Ben’s school.
I stare after her, blinking. Social worker? For a school fight? I’ve met one of them a time or two when I was a kid. I never wanted my child to be on one’s roster of sad cases to look after.
