Stepping closer, she scrutinized the paper without touching it.
Dark-brown streaks crisscrossed the page like a child’s attempt at finger paint.
Her eyes narrowed; then she inhaled sharply.
Dried blood.A substance any nurse could identify.
She’d removed the paper and zipped it into a plastic bag. Another fun thing to discuss with her husband when he returned home.
What if . . .
She slammed her mind shut, refusing to go there. Then she took a deep breath, sucking air into her lungs, wishing she could also inhale hope, strength, wisdom, and sanity.
Things would get better. They had to get better. Because surely they couldn’t get worse.
Right?
Chapter Four
Piper
When the PTA meeting ended, Piper maneuvered through an archipelago of small conversational islands, skillfully avoiding Cameron Schultz and her recruitment efforts for the Roaring Twenties School Gala planning committee.
Piper knew from experience that Cameron’s committees often devolved into nasty civil wars. Last year, the moms who wanted appetizers from Wegmans got into a big argument with the moms who preferred Costco, and now this year they were all room parents together and the whole thing was very awkward.
Like a cheetah, she slipped past the gala-planning moms and into the little group surrounding Mr. Vex.
Their last principal had ruled the school with an iron fist and finally retired to spend more time with her new grandbaby after fourteen years at the helm.
Mr. Vex was her opposite in every way, and many of the moms, particularly the younger ones, liked this new approach. He also happened to be thirty-five years old and unusually good looking, which the mothers of Hollin Terrace Elementary and Middle also appreciated. No one had ever before experienced a PILF or even known that such a thing could possiblyexist.
Piper patiently awaited her turn, listening without smirking or even raising her eyebrows as Abigail Morton, a kindergarten mom, discussed the many difficulties involved in parenting her gifted son.
“I just want Benjamin to bechallenged,” she told Mr. Vex earnestly. “He’s so bright, and he’s already been exposed toalgebraic thinking.”
Piper bit down hard on her lower lip. Had her girls ever been exposed, unwittingly and as kindergartners, toalgebraic thinking? It sounded harmful, like exposure to lead, or Agent Orange.
Mr. Vex assured her that Benjamin would receiveextra enrichmentin math so he could continue to learn at an accelerated pace rather than merely learning to count like his less gifted classmates.
One by one, the other moms slipped away, and finally, it was her turn.
She introduced herself with a firm handshake. “Piper Mondello. I emailed your assistant this morning to set up a meeting on Monday, but I’d prefer to talk now, if you don’t mind.”
He glanced down at his Apple Watch and frowned. “I have five minutes before my next meeting. What can I do for you?”
She took a deep breath and plunged ahead. “It’s about my daughter Caitlin. She’s in seventh grade, and she’s being sexually harassed by a boy in her class.”
He raised an eyebrow. “By whom?”
“Alex Orlov.” She pulled out her phone and showed him a picture of the message she found on her daughter’s iPad.
His expression didn’t change, but his posture did. Almost imperceptibly, she sensed him pulling away.
“It sounds like he’s asking her out on a date,” he said, his voice neutral. “Kind of retro. But seems harmless enough.”
“No.” She shook her head vehemently. “Read it closely. It saysI want to do things to you. Notwithyou.Toyou.”
“How many of these messages has he sent?” Mr. Vex asked, eyes narrowed as he looked down at her phone.
