AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“You’re heading out for some errands?” Phyllis seemed to reluctantly let go of the mail pieces.
“I’m going to a meeting at the school,” Anita said, then immediately regretted giving her that much information. “A...a parent meeting.”
Phyllis folded her arms, crinkling her own collection of letters. “Is everything all right? Aren’t parent meetings usually in the morning?”
Anita had no idea what this woman was referring to. “This one isn’t. Thanks for the mail. I’ll see you later.” She hurried away from Phyllis and toward her car.
Once she slid into the driver’s seat of the Bug, she could only hope that it would start, since Phyllis was still hovering at the mailbox, watching.
“Please start,” Anita muttered as she turned the key. The engine sputtered to life—not quite the purr that would say all was well, but at least it had started. She wasn’t about to be picky, and she really didn’t have extra money for a car repair right now. Not with yesterday’s purchase of summer clothes for Carly.
She backed out of the driveway, jostled by the eroding concrete, then pulled onto the road. The school was only a mile away, but she was already sweating with the warming April weather and didn’t want to delay picking up her daughter.
Her suspended daughter.
Anita gritted her teeth as she pulled into the school’s parking lot. Were the other parents arriving now too? She hadn’t even checked her appearance before leaving—it had been the last thing on her mind. But now that she was at the school parking lot, she knew there was a good chance of running into the moms. The women who mothered Carly’s friends were all the same type of women. None of them worked outside the home, and they all seemed to have plenty of money, plus extra for hair-coloring jobs, manicured nails, and clothing that hadn’t been purchased from the Salvation Army.
Anita wasn’t embarrassed to shop at a thrift store, because she wanted to cut as many corners as she could, while spending any extra on Carly.
Just as she pulled in, a Saab convertible flew past her, then parked in the handicap spot. Oh, and the other moms had much nicer cars.
Vera Hessington climbed out of the convertible, tossed her long red hair, then practically waltzed toward the front doors of the school. Her step bounced, probably due to the fact that she wore tennis clothes, as if she’d just walked off the court. And she probably had. Anita imagined one of the busboys at the country club, where Vera spent her days, rushing over to inform her she had an important phone call.
“It’s fine,” Anita mumbled to herself. She might be thirty-five, single, and living commission check to commission check, but she was happy. Generally. When her little girl wasn’t cutting classes and getting suspended. She released a breath and headed into the school after Vera disappeared inside. Was it terrible to just want her little girl back? To want to rewind time a few years to when they’d check out videos together, then rush home and argue about which one they’d be popping into the VCR first?
Anita tugged open the front door and a gust of musty swamp-cooler air rushed out. The entrance was empty and quiet, which meant she could hear Vera’s rather shrill voice. Probably talking to the principal.
“I’ll make sure she shadows someone in the country club kitchen this week, Mr. Mortenson,” she said as Anita approached the front office. “You won’t need to worry about Samantha again. She’ll be here bright and early on Monday, ready to work hard.”
Anita stepped inside the office, but no one noticed her. A couple office ladies sat behind their desks, pretending not to be eavesdropping, and Principal Mortenson was nodding at Vera, a pleased look on his round-cheeked face. He pushed up his glasses and extended his hand to the other mother. “Thanks for your cooperation, ma’am. You have a great girl here, but we need to uphold the school rules. Be sure to send her back with a signed note.”
He flashed a smile, and Vera flashed one back. Then she turned, her hand clamped on Samantha’s elbow. Both mother and daughter wore amused expressions, as if they were in on some private joke.
Anita stepped aside to let them pass. Vera gave her a small nod, her pink-lipsticked mouth pursed—otherwise, there was no eye contact between the mothers.
“Mrs. Gifford,” the principal said, turning to her. “Carly is this way.”
As Anita followed him down the short hallway to his private office, she noted that no other kids were around, so maybe it had been just Samantha and Carly?
Anita slowed when she saw Carly—her tear-stained face, red-rimmed eyes, and her carefully curled hair hanging limply about her shoulders. Her hair had darkened over the past year. When she was a toddler, Anita used to call her a golden girl because her hair was a shade of gold. Now it was more of a medium brown.
“Hi, Mom,” she said in a near-whisper, and Anita’s heart completely melted.
Carly might have done something stupid, but she was only a kid. A kid who was trying to figure things out and navigate friendships.
“Hi,” she said in a soft voice. “Are you okay?”
Carly’s eyes welled with new tears, and she sniffled.
Principle Mortenson adjusted his glasses, then clasped his hands together. “Mrs. Gifford, you might have heard some of what we arranged with Mrs. Hessington. The girls are expected to put in eight community service hours before returning to school. I suggest getting them all done over the weekend, or Carly will be marked truant on Monday.”
Clearly, her daughter had heard all of this, because she didn’t react.
Community service hours, though? It wasn’t like Anita could send Carly to the country club with a snap of her fingers. They’d have to make phone calls. She met the principal’s gaze. “Does anything need to be done at the school? Carly could start here.”
He shook his head. “Afraid not. You might check with the library or the senior center. There’s also an assisted living home at the edge of town. Or the bowling alley.” He shrugged. “They could use help cleaning that place.”
Anita agreed, but weren’t bowling alleys supposed to be grungy? “All right, thank you.”
