Page 20 of Halo

Chelsea holds up a hand. “Hold on. What do you mean nothing? He didn’t kiss you?”

I shake my head. “I literally had my eyes closed one moment, then the next, he’s saying, ‘Be safe going home,’ and shuts my door.”

Chelsea works her jaw, forming words that never come.

“Maybe I misread his signals?” I suggest.

She shakes her head. “You’re oblivious to men making passes at you—no offense. So the fact you even noticed him … maybe he’s gay? I mean, religious people suck at recognizing queer people—again, no offense.” She pauses. “Actually, no. Fuck y’all. All the offense.”

I chuckle. “Fair. But no, I’m fairly certain he isn’t gay.” I blow out a heavy breath, starting to straighten out my desk before my next meeting. “Maybe he could see my scarlet letter.”

“Babes, no. The only men who care about that are very few and far between. Don’t let Nick—” she says his name with disgust—“discourage you. Love is still an option for you, and it’s out there. Just you wait.”

There’s a knock on the door. “‘Scuse me, Ms. Harrison?”

I gingerly stand, adjusting the dress. “Yes, are you Ms. Stone?”

The brassy-blonde woman steps in, wearing a wrinkled pale blue dress—a uniform you might see in a diner, or perhaps a hotel—and a pair of white tennis shoes.. She adjusts the strap of her purse, extending her arm toward me. “Yes, ma’am. Nice to meet’cha.” As I reach for her hand I am met with a waft of cigarette fumes mixed with fruity body spray.

“Likewise. Come on in and have a seat.” I invite her to sit with me at my reading table. Parents are very aware that I’m the teacher, but during these conferences, I want them to be comfortable. I want them to know that we are on the same team, that we both want what’s best for their student.

I give a small wave to Chelsea as she excuses herself from my classroom, then take a seat with Grady’s mother. I flip open a file folder. “Ms. Stone, Grady is—”

“Is this going to take long?” she interrupts, holding up her hand. “I’m on my lunch break.”

I shake my head, giving her a kind smile. “Let’s use our time wisely then. First of all, you need to know that Grady is such a sweet kid. I really enjoy having him in my class.”

“That's my Gray-bear. He’s pretty quiet, minds his manners. Pretty easy.”

I hum, opening up his student file, including a few recent classroom activities. “Ms. Stone, I'm concerned about Grady's performance so far this year.”

She straightens up. “It’s only been a few weeks. He’s still catching up to the other kids.”

I nod. “You’re right; it’s still early enough in the year where we can find him some extra support to help him succeed—”

“Maybe he needs new lenses in his glasses? I haven’t been able to take him back to get checked again, and I can make an appointment right now if—"

“Ms. Stone—” I stop her—“I don't think it’s his vision. What I'm concerned with is his retention skills.”

“Like … you think he's dumb?”

The word is like a punch to my chest. “Absolutely not. No child is dumb. Everyone learns differently. Some catch on before I can even finish my instruction; others need me to walk them through directions step by step.” I set out a few worksheets. “We are still figuring out what kind of support Grady needs to be successful. Right now, he’s not performing at the developmental level as other children his age.”

She stares at scribbles and poor penmanship. “He's never been in school like this before, you know.”

“Attending school is a huge learning curve. You're right.” I nod. “Has Grady's pediatrician ever expressed any concerns about his development?”

Tiffany frowns. “No. I mean, he's always been a little behind, but nobody ever said there was something wrong with him.” She pauses, nervously looking away.

I tenderly place my hand on her wrist. “I am not saying there is anything wrong with Grady. He is bright and kind, and he deserves all the support he needs to be successful.” I offer a smile. “I’d like for us to work together on that.”

Silence passes between us, her fingers picking at the edge of the stack of papers. “What exactly is he having trouble with?” she asks softly.

“He’s having difficulty retaining and recalling information.”

She sardonically snickers. “He needs remindin’? Every child needs remindin’ here and there. Hell, I’m a grown-ass adult and need remindin’.”

“You're right. But Grady… he's needing more prompts than other children his age.”