Page 29 of Mountain Void

Charlie turned, but Théo’s father wasn’t looking at her. He was looking straight at his wife.

After a long instant, he turned his head towards Charlie.

“Is there a problem?” he asked. His French was faster than his wife’s. Sharper.

“No,” Charlie said evenly. “I was just—“

“Stop bothering my wife. And my son.”

“That’s exactly what I was saying, Pierre, dear,” Madame Pelletier said quickly.

The man went on as if his wife hadn’t spoken. “Children change. They grow. They learn to think.” His gaze hardened. “You should stop bothering my son and focus on your own responsibilities.”

The phrasing snagged in Charlie’s mind. She knew, with complete certainty, that this was her responsibility.

“And leave my family alone,” he said, his tone harsh.

Charlie held the man’s stare. “I’m only concerned about Théo’s well-being, as I am for all my students.”

“He does not need your concern.”

Charlie’s French was fluent enough, but nuance sometimes escaped her. Was that a warning? A dismissal? A threat?

Before she could decide, another voice walked up to them.

“Everything all right here?”

The principal approached with measured calm. After thirty years at the school, Sean Whittaker had an instinct for tension.

Théo’s father stepped back half a pace.

“No problem. We came looking for Théo.”

“He’ll be out on the field, dear. He has football today.”

“Excellent. We’ll meet him there.”

As the couple walked off, hand in hand, the principal turned towards Charlie.

“Is everything okay, Charlie?”

“I’m not sure. I was sharing some observations about Théo. He’s been increasingly withdrawn, and his parents are not … forthcoming.”

Sean nodded slowly.

“Is this a concern?”

Charlie thought back to when it’d all started. Before the field trip. But how long before? How long had she missed this?

“I don’t have certainty. But I’m worried.”

“You did the right thing bringing this up, Charlie. We’ll keep an eye out, and schedule an appointment for Théo on Monday with Madame Rideau.”

Charlie breathed a sigh of relief. The school psychologist was a magician. If anybody could get Charlie to open up, that would be her.

“We’re not the kind of school that stands by when a child needs help,” Sean continued. “Keep me informed if anything else happens in the meantime.” Then he shifted gears with administrative efficiency. “On another note—I need your help.”

“My help?”