Page 6 of Reeves

The tension in her shoulders eases. I've learned that parents need therapy as much as their children do sometimes.

My phone vibrates against the counter behind me. The screen lights up with Benjy's school number.

My heart drops into my stomach.

"Excuse me one second." I stand, wiping my hands on my pants as I cross to the counter. Schools don't call unless something's wrong.

I press the phone to my ear, turning half away from Emma and her mother. Every nerve in my body stands at attention.

"Charli Parsons speaking."

"Ms. Parsons, this is Ms. Rivera from Westlake Elementary. There's been an incident involving Benjy."

"Is he hurt?" My voice remains level, but my free hand grips the counter edge.

"He's physically fine. No injuries. But we'd like to discuss what happened with one of the other children."

Relief floods through my body. "What happened?"

"There was a disagreement on the playground. Benjy pushed a child during recess. We've addressed it with both children, but school policy requires parent notification and a meeting. The principal would like to speak with you today if you're able to come in."

I glance at the wall clock. It's 1:50. We have ten minutes left in Emma's session.

"I understand. I can be there in thirty minutes."

"We'll see you then."

I end the call and take one measured breath before turning back to Emma and her mother. My client schedule flashes through my mind. Emma is my last appointment today, thank goodness.

I kneel back on the therapy mat, indicating for her to place Emma down.

We finish up what I wanted to show mom so they can work at home. She takes the paperwork I have to demonstrate the exercises and puts it in her purse before picking up Emma.

"Are you good for next Friday, same time?" I tap the appointment into the system while Emma's mother gathers their diaper bag.

"Yep, this time works perfectly for us."

"Alrighty. We're all set."

I grab all my supplies and put them in my therapy bag before saying our goodbyes. All I can think about is getting to the school and finding out exactly what happened today on the playground.

The school officesmells like industrial cleaners and children's drawings. The secretary eyes me as I walk in. I smile as I approach her desk.

"Hi. I'm Charli Parsons. My son is Benjy Parsons?—"

"Ms. Parsons, Principal Hernandez is expecting you," she says, cutting me off before I can stumble through being called to the principal's office.

I spot Benjy through the open door to the principal's office. He sits with his small back straight in a miniature blue plastic chair, his green eyes focused on the floor. His feet don't touch the ground yet.

The principal stands when I enter. She's tall with neat braids and a pressed blazer. Ms. Lin, Benjy's kindergarten teacher, sits in another chair, her expression professionally concerned.

"Thank you for coming so quickly, Ms. Parsons."

"Of course." I choose the adult chair next to Benjy. His eyes flick to me briefly but return to studying the floor.

The principal, Ms. Hernandez, sits behind her desk. "I'll get straight to it. There was an incident during recess today. Benjy pushed another student."

My face stays neutral. Benjy's shoulders stiffen almost imperceptibly.